


Shattered in This Castle of Glass

by LieutenantTazer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Child Abuse, F/M, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Implied or Off-stage Domestic Violence, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Protective!Derek, School Violence, Self Confidence Issues, Slow Build, The Hale Pack - Freeform, abused!Stiles, police officer!Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 23:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LieutenantTazer/pseuds/LieutenantTazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was hardly anything left of the happy boy who used to run home from school everyday to hug his mom, hardly anything left for anyone to see of the little boy who would curl up on his father's lap, and nothing left but an empty shell of the teen who had done absolutely nothing to deserve the pain and suffering he'd been forced to endure for the last ten years. Hope was a foreign word that meant nothing to those lifeless eyes and love was something only mythology spoke of because surely these feelings had no place in their meaning for someone like him, someone who was so worthless and useless that after all these years no one could see just how badly he was suffering and come to save him, take his pain away and never ask for anything in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tugging on his bike chain, making sure the lock looped around the links was secured, the teen stood up with some extra effort and turned to face his new school with an apprehensive look. The students bustled around him, not even noticing the new face on campus, completely ignoring him and his meager existence and if Stiles was being honest with himself he knew he would be happy to remain a shadow in the background. But he was being honest with himself today and a part of him did want to be noticed, wanted to be seen, heard; he just wanted someone to notice him. His honey glazed eyes tracked a student who was running towards him, a happy face and an arm raised in the air waving while calling out a friendly hello, and as he opened him mouth with a shy smile the student brushed past him, harshly knocking shoulders to dart behind him and meet up with a group of guys gathered around a sports car.

Who was he kidding? This school, just like every other school he’d been to, was going to be exactly the same and he had only until lunch to prepare himself for the rest of the student body to figure out how much of a freak he really was and for the impending dark locker time, dumpster dives and toilet swirly. All he had to do was remind himself that this was his senior year, that this was it and that in just under nine months he would turn eighteen and he would be _free_. The idea of freedom left a clean taste in his mouth, like a cold glass of water. All he had to do was wait it out and pray that these next few months wouldn’t be the end of him.

Adjusting the straps on his back pack, a ratty old thing he found left behind at a park—and for good reason too as the seams were coming apart and the straps were withered away to almost nothing—Stiles took a calming breath in and made his way up the front steps towards the front door with purposeful strides. Shoulders back, chest slightly out, and head held high he wasn’t about to show any fear to these strangers even if he was scared beyond belief. Standing inside Beacon Hills High School he glanced around the foyer when he realized one thing, realized this wasn’t his old school and the school’s office wasn’t right by the main doors and that he had absolutely no idea where to start looking. Reaching up to feel the straps of his back pack under his fingers, he pulled to hike his sack up higher on his shoulders and stood awkwardly in the center of the foyer as the rest of his classmates started filing in to head towards their first class.

The first bell rang and Stiles realized that he was the only one standing near the front doors, awkwardly glancing around in hopes that he would recognize a sign that would point him in the direction of the school office so he could pick up his class schedule, locker assignment, and hopefully find someone to show him around the maze that was Beacon Hills. Just as he was about to give up and just wander aimlessly around the halls until a teacher found him or he actually found the office, the front doors burst open behind him with a loud bang and two students stumbled through the doors breathing hard. Both took a moment to take a breather, glancing at each other with mischievous smiles on their faces before they broke out laughing. Frozen stiff, his feet firmly rooted in the ground, Stiles wished he could just blend in and pray that the two boys wouldn’t notice him.

“Dude, we have got to stop sleeping in.” One boy panted harshly, his wavy sandy blonde hair bouncing with the natural flow of gravity as he bobbed his head. “Project or not, if mom get’s another call from the school about me skipping I’m so dead.”

The other boy forced himself to stand up, his head dropped back so he could force some calming breaths into his lungs. His shaggy mop of chocolate hair, slicked with sweat at the roots, flopped back with the force of his head dropping back. “Don’t worry; I’ll cover for you, Isaac. We should—“straightening his posture, the dark haired teens eyes locked on Stiles with a strange expression. “Hi?”

The other teen with him, Isaac, turned around to stare at Stiles with the same sort of confused expression. He tipped his head to the side and starred at Stiles with a questioning look on his face. His features were the first to smooth over, the other boy still rigid behind him as Isaac took a step forward with a slight smile tugging on his face. Holding his hand out, his face broke out into a friendly smile that made Stiles knees weak. “You must be new. I’m Isaac, and this is Scott.” Stiles tentatively reached out to touch palms with the other boy before jerking his hand back to curl around his back pack straps like Isaac’s touch burned his skin. Isaac’s frown returned, his mouth tugging downward and his eyes crinkling around the edges.

“Hi,” he replied curtly. Taking a small step back to put some distance between himself and Isaac, Stiles feet caught between his ankles forcing him to tumble and fall to the ground in a graceless heap. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from crying out from the pain radiating along his sides, he drew in on himself as the two teens surrounded him to gently pull him back up, brush him off and right his posture.

“Easy there, buddy, we don’t bite.” Scott’s hands were warm on his shoulders and Isaac’s were a welcomed weight in his hands, both offering steady support in keeping Stiles balanced.

“Hey, you don’t look so good.” Isaac’s eyes caught Scott’s over Stiles head, the two teen’s holding a silent conversation that made Stiles squirm in their grasp. Tugging free, he took a hasty few steps back and offered a meek smile.

“Sorry, I’m not very graceful. Would either of you two happen to know where the school office is?” Jumping out of his skin when the second bell rang, the apparent tardy bell as the other two teens groaned loudly, Stiles glanced around a few more times and realized that they were the only ones in the halls still. These two boys weren’t terribly large like some students he’d seen, but he was so scrawny and even just one of them could beat him up easily and with no teachers around there really wasn’t anyone to stop them if they wanted to harm him.  

“We’ll take you; we have to get tardy passes anyways.” Isaac’s hand came down to rest on Stiles shoulder to steer him into the opposite direction of the foyer, the other teen followed behind them. Stiles tried not to jump when Isaac touched him. Why were these two being so nice to him? How could they not see?

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Better to apologize than receive the repercussions.

“For what?” Isaac prodded when the smaller teen didn’t offer up an explanation.

“Making you guys late.”

“That was my fault,” Scott piped up from behind. “We were up late working on a project last night and I couldn’t wake myself up this morning.”

“Try any morning, this guy sleeps like a dead weight and snores louder than a bear.” Isaac laughed as they rounded a corner, the sign at the end of the hall indicating the school office, an immediately identifiable marking putting the brunette at ease that these two were actually helping him and not leading him out back to beat him up. “It’s amazing he actually shows up at all.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Scott huffed loudly as he stepped around the two and pushed the door open to the office where the sounds of phones ringing, a student speaking into a microphone discussing the morning announcements, and the principal in his office screaming at a poor student for their insubordination lifted to their ears. “Good morning, Mrs. G, you’re looking lovely this morning.” Leaning against the counter Scott flirtatiously smiled down at the woman in her forties who in return was starring back up at him over the brim of her wire frame glasses.

“Good morning, Mr. McCall.” Mrs. Gardner responded in an annoyed manner, her hands absently reaching for the tardy slips near her keyboard. “Late as usual I see.”

“No, actually we found a new student and decided to show him around. You can’t reprimand us for trying to help out and be nice, can you?” Mrs. Gardner arched an eyebrow and glanced behind Scott to leer at Isaac and the boy beside him. “We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Hi,” he softly greeted while his ducked in submission. Taking a small step behind Isaac, Stiles eyes darted around the office noting all the exits and calculating his chances of just being able to run out of the building and begging to be placed into home schooling just once more.

Mrs. Gardner handed a sheet of paper to Scott and nodded towards the teen behind him and went back to her work on the computer, ticking away at her keyboard. Scott glanced down at the sheet and smiled to himself seeing that the Stilinski kid had his first block with both he and Isaac in Chemistry, and then his second block was with Isaac in Calculus. The rest of his day was taken up by Government and then English. “Dude, you have one messed up schedule. Everything is all academic, no fun classes.”

Shrugging, Stiles reached out and took the sheet from the taller boy and glanced over it noting his locker number and the classes the school had assigned for him. At least his second semester looked a little more promising with the application of Physics, Anatomy, Physical Education, and a Criminology course. He just hoped that he wasn’t too far behind in his classes because failing wasn’t an option for him, anything lower than an “A” was greatly frowned upon at his house. Stiles felt Isaac lean over his shoulder to glance over his class sheet.

“We’ll take you to Chem.” Stiles hated the false sense of security that the other boys smile made him feel, even if he appeared to be one of the nice kids Stiles was all too familiar with how cruel others could be and that soon Isaac would be just like the rest of the student body, the rest of the people in Stiles’ life, and learn what a worthless piece of shit he really was. “It looks like you got the empty locker next to Lydia, lucky you.”

Mrs. Gardner finished filling out the late passes and handed the three slips to Scott with an annoyed smile on her face. “You three are already late, get to class.”

Isaac ushered Stiles out of the office door as Scott turned to wave goodbye to the office secretary. “See you tomorrow Mrs. G?”

Stiles heard the faint “I hope not.” He laughed a little bit. He hoped these two wouldn’t turn out to be like everyone else as he was starting to actually come to like them as people, as… he dare not think the word. Walking silently between Isaac and Scott, who were chatting wildly about some after school practice and only when he realized that they had gotten quiet was when he realized they started talking to him. “What?”

“You play, Space Cadet?” Scott teased with a smile on his face.

“Scott,” Isaac reprimanded with a hearty glare.

“Play what?” Stiles prodded, hoping they wouldn’t become annoyed with him for tuning them out.

“Lacrosse, it’s the favored sport here at Beacon Hills since over the last six years we’ve made state champions.” Scott playfully knocked shoulders with Stiles, making the small boy falter in his steps. Isaac’s hand shot out to steady him. “You play?” Scott ducked his head in apology.

Stiles shook his head. “I’m not allow—I’m not any good at sports. I have zero hand-eye coordination and I am really clumsy.” Scott muttered louder than he meant to and Stiles heard every word.

_Yeah, not very graceful._

Isaac shot a glare at the other boy. “So what sort of clubs were you involved in at your other school if you didn’t play sports?”

Stiles kept his eyes trained forwards, not permitting himself to look down and show anymore weakness of fear to these two teens. Opting for a half truth, not admitting that he wasn’t allowed to participate in school activities, he took a steady breath in before speaking. “I like to stay focused in my studies.” Isaac tipped his head again in confusion. Scott slowly nodded like he didn’t believe him. How could they know he was lying?

Not even bothering to knock on the classroom door before thrusting it open, Scott took the first few strides into the classroom with his hand up waving at their teacher who stood exasperated at the front of the room. “It’s so good of you to join us this morning, Mr. McCall.” Mr. Harris drawled, his dominant hand coming up to rub tiredly at his temple. “Mr. Lahey, I hope your association with Mr. McCall doesn’t start to affect your academic performance.”

“No worries here, Mr. Harris.” Isaac dismissively said as he took his seat next to Scott at their lab table leaving Stiles to stand awkwardly at the door.

“And you must be Ge—“

“Just call me Stiles!” He hurriedly interrupted, earning himself a scowl from the teacher. A great way to start out his new school, pissing off the teacher before he even got his desk assignment. A round of chuckles lifted to his ears, his fellow classmates laughing at his outburst and their teacher’s obvious distaste for the new student.

Mr. Harris shook his head and turned back to the whiteboard in the front of the room. “Take a seat next to Ms. Martin, Mr. Stilinski and let’s hope your taste in new friends improves over the semester. I would hate for you to fall into the bad patterns Mr. McCall has obtained over the years.” A few more chuckles erupted from some of the students who were looking at Scott, grinning like idiots.

As Mr. Harris proceeded to write on the whiteboard Stiles awkwardly glanced around the room wondering who Mr. Martin was so he could take his seat and drown in his self pity in his seat rather than uncomfortably stand in the entryway of the classroom. Someone cleared their throat at the desk in the far back corner of the classroom, forcing the teens eyes up to stare at the lovely jade pair of eyes sparkling his way. She was gorgeous and pointing to the seat next to her with a smile on her face. Hastily making his way to his seat, Stiles was never so happy to sit down than he was right now because _finally_ everyone stopped looking at him and returned to their notes on the board that they probably were supposed to be copying down. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “Mr. Harris doesn’t hate you, he hates all students. Just try to show up to class on time, do the homework and attempt to not ask ridiculous questions and you may just get along with him.” Scooting closer so they could share her text book, Stiles realized that he didn’t even know her first name. Glancing to her open folder, he noted a class worksheet that had her name written in her loopy, girly scrawl at the header.

“Thanks Lydia,” he smiled shyly.

Her returning smile was infectious. “Not a problem, Stiles.”

~*~*~

Stiles had to admit that this was the weirdest school he’d ever been to. It was already lunch and he hadn’t gotten beaten up or shoved into a locker. What was even weirder was that Lydia had attached herself to his side and stuck like glue for the entire morning. They shared the same class schedule and were next to each other by their lockers, which was alright for now since she appeared to be the sweetest girl out of the whole school. Her boyfriend was a tool, but Stiles had come to learn over the years that most jocks were and that girls were usually drawn to the bad-boy types and while Jackson appeared to be an ass to everyone around him, Stiles could tell that he was nothing short of a gentleman towards her. And since Lydia dubbed Stiles her new best friend, by proxy Jackson was his new, unofficial _big brother_ and no one dared to say anything when he tripped over his own feet in Calculus class in second block.

“Did you bring money for lunch or did you pack today?” Lydia’s arms were curled around each of theirs as she walked between the two boys towards their lockers. Jackson’s locker was right next to Lydia’s. Stiles faltered in his steps, his arm jerking from Lydia’s loose grip as his feet paused midstride forcing the couple to turn and look at him. “Stiles, are you alright?”

He’d never had to sit with others during lunch, at least others who seemed to care if he actually ate during lunch hour. Adjusting his shoulder straps on his shoulders, the weight suddenly lessened as the old seams finally broke spilling the contents of his back pack onto the floor. Swearing under his breath, Stiles dropped to his knees to quickly pull his school belongings into a messy pile before him, hoping that none of the other students would kick his things across the hall. Jackson appeared next to him, helping by handing Stiles his text book and two pens that skittered across the floor. Even Lydia squatted down to hand him the packet they had received in chemistry that morning for homework.

Standing with all his belongings secured in his arms, Stiles ducked past the two and rushed to his locker. Oddly balancing his things in his scrawny arm, and reaching out with the tips of his fingers to twist the dial on his lock, Stiles sighed in frustration when the lock refused to open. “Easy there, sport.” Lydia’s hands reached out to steady his shaking ones as Jackson proceeded to unlock Stiles locker with ease. He wondered how the teen knew his combination, but refused to ask in favor of hoping they wouldn’t suddenly start making fun of him.

“Stiles, you’re shaking. Are you alright?” Lydia frowned when the brunette jerked out of her hold to quickly place his things at the base of his locker. Once everything was safely in his locker, he took a cursory glance down the hall to make sure nothing was left behind. “Stiles?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I guess it finally broke.” He’d have to go snooping through the lost and found after school and hopefully find something that he could use that would be suitable and not make it look like he stole something. He didn’t need to draw any more attention to himself at home.

“That thing was ancient,” Jackson joked with a smile on his face as he turned to his own locker to pull drop off his bag.

“Ah, yeah…” Rubbing the back of his head, Stiles jumped when a back pack was dropped into his hands. It was blue in color mostly with light grey and black accents, making it look sleek and sporty. The NorthFace insignia on the strap made him realize just how expensive the bag he was holding really was. Starring up at Jackson with a confused look on his face, all the teen received was a nonchalant shrug. “Jackson?”

“It’s an extra I’ve had in my locker for a while. I use it sometimes for clothes when I stay at Lydia’s house for the night.” The two shared a wink before Jackson passively brought her body against his own, dropping a few kisses to her exposed neck. “My god you smell amazing.” He whispered making Stiles blush. “You can have it, I have a ton. That was my bag from freshman year; it’s seriously not a problem.” Waving off Stiles objection before it could even come out of his mouth, the blonde turned to head towards the cafeteria calling over his shoulder that he’d save them some seats.

“It’s Jackson amazing?” Lydia swooned as she dropped her shoulder bag into her locker. “Blue really is your color, Stiles. You should let me take you clothes shopping.” Her smile didn’t falter as her eyes raked up and down his body taking in his second hand, tattered clothes. Trying not to feel small under her gaze, Stile shut his locker door and turned so she could latch onto his arm once again. The weight of both of her arms around his own was warm, radiating towards his core and calming his jittery nerves almost instantly.

It was weird, the effect the students had on him here at this school. All morning Lydia had been offering reassuring touches, kind words of encouragement, and the warmest smiles Stiles had ever seen and his body was eating up the attention like it was oxygen. Jackson, who appeared to be an ass to everyone around them, had treated him like an equal, like a brother, a friend, something that he hadn’t felt in the longest time and the boys steady presence around them in between classes was almost just as comforting as Lydia’s tender touches. Then there was Isaac and Scott, two of the weirdest characters he’d set eyes on, but they felt like the older brothers he’s never had but always wanted. The warm feelings these four were making him feeling left him unsettled and more confused than ever. Why were they being so nice? How did they even notice him out of everyone else in this school? What was their ulterior motive? Surely they didn’t plan this out before meeting him that they were going to worm their way close to his heart, get closer than anyone ever had before and then rip the rug out from under his feet.

“Sit down,” Lydia patted the seat next to her as she gracefully took a seat next to Jackson and plucked an apple off his tray. “It’s better to wait for the lunch lie to die down.” Across from her was Isaac, Scott and some pretty brunette named Allison who Scott was making goo-goo eyes at and nuzzling into her side like an oversized teddy bear. She seemed annoyed, not at Stiles but at Scott who looked like he was enjoying _smelling_ her far too much. “Guys, this is my new best friend. Stiles, this is everyone.”

A girl plopped down beside him, drawing his attention away from Scott and Allison. She was gorgeous too, long dark brown hair and equally dark brown eyes that stuck out like a bright color against her olive skin tone. “Hi cutie,” she smiled cheekily. Ruffling his hair with her hand she leaned in close to press a wet kiss to his temple.

A few more students sat at their table and before Stiles was aware there were more friendly people surrounding him than he had ever remembered. “That’s Cora and Danny.” She whispered into his ear while pointing to each person who sat down with their lunches at the table, offering him a small wave before turning to the person next to them and chatting away happily.

His heart thundered loudly in his chest, so loud he was pretty sure he could hear it and the blood rushing behind his ears. His chest tightened and he could feel his accessory muscles working in time with his body to force oxygen into his lungs before his body submitted to a panic attack in front of these people who had only been kind to him on his first day. Maybe they were just really nice people and that they would continue to be nice to him the remainder of the year. He could dream, but that meant he had to calm down and pretend to be the strong, awkward teenager they met today, not the weak, worthless piece of shit who was just fading through life. His abdominal muscles tightened, his stomach rolling with the effort to pull oxygen into his body before he passed out. Out of the corner of his eye, he swore he felt Jackson and Isaac’s watchful eyes lingering on him; almost like they knew.

A warm hand slipped into his own under the table, grounding the teen and bringing his conscious back to the lunch conversation—something about the upcoming game this Friday and how there was so much pressure on the whole team. Jerking his head to stare at Lydia’s warm face, he melted momentarily as she stood up, drawing him with her by their connected hands. “Let’s get lunch, Stiles.” Pushing him in front of her and handing him a maroon tray from the lunch line she nudged him down the whole line, filling his plate with a hearty turkey sandwich—complete with a little mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato and red onion—as well as a bag of Doritos, an apple and then one of the large chocolate chip cookies at the end of the line while fixing herself a grilled chicken salad and grabbing some sliced peaches. At the end of the line she got herself and Stiles a coke and stepped around him to pay for her own and walking out to head back to their table.

The cashier looked at him expectantly and for a moment Stiles panicked, knowing he had zero cash to pay for this lunch. Just as the cashier was about to haul him to the side his hand clenched tighter around his tray causing a light brushing of paper to tickle his palm. Looking down to the hand Lydia had grabbed, he starred in a confused manner at the twenty-dollar bill. The cashier leaned forward and took the twenty from him, exchanging it out for his change and dropping eighteen dollars back into his hand. She ushered him out of the lunch line and shut the door with a resonating slam. No one seemed to noticed in the lunch room, the rest of his classmates carrying on with their conversations and still not noticing him. He glanced around until he saw Jackson wave him back over to their table along the wall of windows with a smile, giving his feet the courage to close the distance and take his seat once again next to Lydia.

Once seated, her hand sought out his own once again under the table as she leaned in so her lips were pressed against the shell of his ear. “Eat something, you’re way to skinny.” Stiles swore her lips pressed against his skin in a soft kiss before returning to her conversation with Danny and Jackson. Her free hand worked her fork with ease, stabbing small bites of lettuce, bacon, grilled chicken, and other salad fixing onto the prongs and taking mouth savoring bites. Stiles hand unconsciously curled tighter around hers while his non-dominant hand reached clumsily for the turkey sandwich the lunch lady had cut for him. His fingers were shaking, the brunette was pretty sure Danny noted their tremble from across him, but he was able to loosely grip his sandwich and take a mouthwatering bite, his senses forgetting what actual food tasted like over the last few days.

When lunch was over, and everyone disappeared off into their separate ways, Lydia leg him to Government class with Jackson and sat him next to her, Jackson taking the seat immediately across from them. His stomach was full, he’d only been able to eat half of his sandwich and a few bites of his cookie, but in his locker he had the left over’s sealed in a few of Isaac’s plastic lunch bags to save for later. He wanted to cry for how safe everyone was making him feel and at the same time cry out in insanity because this kind of charity always came with a price and he was desperate to know what it was. Surely, whatever it was, it would crush him upon impact and leave him shattered.

~*~*~

He wanted to stay and watch the lacrosse team practice with Lydia, Cora and Allison, who all swore that it was close to watching porn on the internet sometimes. He had no idea what that was like and had to respectfully decline in favor of getting home to work on his homework that was due by the end of the week. He’d only missed the first month of school, had four weeks’ worth of homework to complete and turned in by Friday. He could do it, he knew he could, but once he walked through the side door into his new house in Beacon Hills he knew tonight he wouldn’t get much done with a hand came out of nowhere, harshly throwing him against the wall and forcing a cry to fall from his lips as the pain that had dulled over the day erupted tenfold in his sides.

He knew better than to fight back, it was always better to opt with the truth and wait out the anger until he could scurry away and hide in his room. “Whose book bag did you steal?” Hot breath wafted over his skin, making him shiver in cold fear. This was what he wanted to avoid.

“They gave it to me!” He loudly protested as best he could with his face shoved roughly into the drywall of their kitchen.

“Who would take pity on someone like you?” His hand was wrenched around behind him, his elbow bent at a bad angle with his wrist turned out, forcing the teen up onto his toes to alleviate some of the pain. “No one cares about you. This person was only feeling sorry for a worthless piece of shit like you!”

Tears streamed down his face; because how could he tell his uncle that he really didn’t think Jackson pitied him? How could he explain the warm feelings the other students left in him when he couldn’t even explain it to himself? “I’m sorry,” he whimpered hoping that his uncle would let his wrist go before his weak bones snapped under the pressure.

His uncle growled loudly in his ear before forcefully pushing off his nephew and moving back into the living room. “I leave for work at seven, make me dinner.” Stiles didn’t hesitate to start making his uncle something before he left for the station, not wanting to anger the larger man any more than he already had.

        


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He understood pain and what it did to his body, understood how to deal with bullies and knew that there was nothing he could do about it but when these students surrounded him, smiling… laughing… he had no idea how to react and often found himself even more scared of the unknown that was constantly surrounding him.

Stiles had a hard time believing it was Friday already and not once had anyone tried to bully him into submission, try to beat him up and stuff his small body into a locker, dump him into a trashcan or submerge his head in the boy’s toilets. In fact, everyone had been sickeningly nice to him and a part of his thoughts deviated to the darkness where he wished it would just go back to the old ways, wished they would turn on him and thrust him into a locker because that was something he understood. He understood pain and what it did to his body, understood how to deal with bullies and knew that there was nothing he could do about it but when these students surrounded him, smiling… laughing… he had no idea how to react and often found himself even more scared of the unknown that was constantly surrounding him.

Lydia was a small ray of sunshine on a rainy afternoon. She had her up’s and down’s like every teenage girl did—having Jackson around didn’t seemed to help her mood swings much either sometimes—but her presence was warm, inviting and always so tender that every time her fingers touched Stiles’ body it felt like a flutter of butterfly wings. Not only was she friendly to Stiles but she was smart as hell and could spit out mathematical outputs faster than he usually could. In Calculus, the two were neck and neck usually when released to fill in their worksheets before the end of the class. Usually Isaac worked in with them; their small group something to marvel but every so often Lydia was pause to explain an equation to the wavy haired blonde. Friendly, smart and drop dead gorgeous; it was no wonder Jackson was so in love with her.

But Lydia wasn’t at school today, something about having an interview for a college that wanted to pay her to go into their university, and for the most of the day he found himself getting to know Jackson. He figured that since Lydia wasn’t going to be following him around that Jackson would just go off with Danny and leave him be, but he was wrong and when the lacrosse captain leaned against his girlfriends locker to talk to Stiles in the morning before first block the teen had to admit he was more than surprised. Even Danny who stopped by treated him no differently and tried to get him to understand the concept of an exploding fist-bump. The two teens found it amusing that Stiles had no idea what the purpose was of this sort of thing, but when Jackson and he parted ways with Danny the teen’s hand crept up to his shoulder to steer him into Chemistry. They were just being friendly, acting as friends with each other and Stiles had completely missed when that happened, missed when he became friends with these people.

Jackson himself was a hard person to understand. He was a typical jock, no questions about that, with a rich-boy complex that entitled him to the _coolest kid in school_ title. He drove a Porsche for crying out loud! It didn’t matter that his daddy bought it for him, it came down to the fact that he was a high school kid driving a Porsche and turned out to be one of the nice kids. He was pretty sure Lydia would maim Jackson—boyfriend or not—if the blonde harmed a single hair on his head, but after a few lunch periods with the guy Stiles was sure that the whole stuck up and macho behavior was nothing but a show, that Lydia was the only one to truly know just how tender he really was on the inside. He acted out to protect himself from anyone else who wanted to use his insecurities against him and wore a fitted mask to hide who he really was. He understood and admired Jackson for being able to accomplish something he never could.

After school Lydia found Stiles in the parking lot by his bike. “How did it go?” He was confused as to why she was here since the game didn’t start till later that evening and she hadn’t been at school all day, but her smiling face and Beacon Hill’s Bulldogs attire was something to admire and fear at the same time.

“They loved me,” the unspoken _who wouldn’t_ didn’t need to be said and Stiles knew she had other interviews set up for other prestigious schools around the nation in the following months. Her look suddenly intensified as her key magically appeared out of nowhere. “Leave your bike and let’s go.”

“Go?” _She’s kidnapping me._

“Yeah, you and I are heading over to Jackson’s to get you something to wear for tonight.”

“Tonight?” _What the hell was happening tonight?_

Reaching out to grab his hand, Lydia pulled Stiles over to her silver Mercedes and pushed his school back into the backseat next to her designer purse. A honk caught her attention, a car idling directly behind hers drawing her attention to the incredibly gorgeous brunette in the driver’s seat and Cora’s petite frame in the passengers. The ~~red head~~ strawberry blonde—he learned the hard way on that, who knew that one color could have so many different names—sought out his hand and pulled the stumbling teen up to the side of the sporty, candy apple red mustang. The driver lowered her sunglasses to smile brightly up at Lydia, her sparkling white teeth almost blinding in the sunlight. “Lydia, you look adorable today.”

“How’d the interview go?” Cora half crawled over the center to poke her head out beside the drivers, her own matching dark eyes sparkling up at the two of them. Stiles was positive that if the angle of her cheer uniform was any lower he’d be able to see her boobs. Biting his lip, he took a half step back, suddenly uncomfortable. He really just wanted to get to his bike and get home. Why was Lydia doing this to him?

Lydia rolled her eyes and twirled a piece of her long strawberry blonde hair around her index finger. Her smile was feral and everything about her screamed victory. Looking up she made a face and the two girls in the car squealed in excitement. “Lydia, please tell me you’re going to accept an offer soon so these schools can stop falling all over you.” The driver lowered her glasses a bit more, her nostrils flaring for a brief moment as her eyes raked over Stiles body. He felt incredibly small in her gaze and as badly as his body told him to run away, that his girl appeared to be more trouble that she appeared, but the more his body told him to run the more his mind said to stay. Their eyes met for a brief moment, his honey eyes meeting her dark orbs before jerking to break the contact to stare interestedly at his shoes where he could feel a hole wearing through the aged fabric. “Who is this?”

“That’s Stiles,” Cora piped cheerfully. Her sparkling eyes catching the sun’s glint, drawing the teen’s attention from the forming hole in his shoe to his classmate. “He’s the new kid I was telling you about.” Lydia took a moment wrap her arm protectively around Stiles’ shoulders for a moment until a flicker of something passed over the drivers face, it was only a brief moment but it was there and the tension suddenly dropped from Lydia’s hand and Cora’s face.

“So this is Stiles.”

“Hi,” he softly whispered over the rush of the afterschool bustle of rushing cars and students racing to get home to prepare for the evenings game. It was amazing she heard it as he could barely hear his own voice over the chaos, though the responding smile was enough to pacify him. The teen brought his hand up to awkwardly wave, hoping the tremor in his fingers would go unnoticed by this new face.

“He is adorable, Cora.” The three girls shared a look that went over Stiles’ head.

“This is my older sister, Laura; she works at Beacon Hills Fire Department and as a nurse in the emergency room.” Cora’s beam only seemed to grow as she gushed on about her cool, older sister. A thought struck the boy in the head.

“You know my uncle,” he wished his voice was louder, more assertive, but with the reminder of his ever loving uncle his heart rate seemed to pick up uncontrollably. Even the mention of his supposed caregiver was enough to remind him that he needed to get home and make the house spotless before his uncle got home in the morning from his 24-shift. Laura hummed in thought. “Michael Stilinski, he just transferred to BHFD from San Francisco last week.”

“Oh, the chief’s brother!” Laura exclaimed loudly. Her hand shot up to pull off the sunglasses on her face to really take in the scrawny teen before her. “Now that you mention it, you kind of look like your other uncle more than Mike. He never mentioned having a nephew or another brother.”

If he thought his heart was being fast before, his valves were thundering now, pumping blood through his veins faster with every passing second at the idea that the chief was his uncles other brother, his… “I have to go!” Jerking out of Lydia’s arm, Stiles took a few hasty steps back away from the three girls.

“Stiles!”

“I have to go, sorry Lydia. Nice to meet you Laura!” Reaching through the open window of the backseat to Lydia’s Mercedes to lift his book-bag up onto his shoulders, looping his arms hastily through the straps and missing a few times he ultimately gave up and dropped the bag onto the ground, he turned back to the three with an apologetic look and darted towards his bike yelling an apology over his shoulder. He had to get away, had to get home. Fumbling with his bike chain, he chanced a look over to the three girls crowded around the fiery Mustang and winced as they were talking, obviously about him and his fucked up ways, and throwing weird looks in his direction. Cursing when he realized his key for his lock was in his back-pack, which currently lay in the backseat of Lydia’s Mercedes after the girl had picked it up and placed it back in the back, he pushed away from the bike rack with more force than his small body could handle and tripped. Bouncing back up quickly, Stiles beat feet and ran all the way home leaving the three girls behind with sad, confused faces.

~*~*~

He grumbled under his breath as he watched the parents, friends and families of Beacon Hill’s pour into the stadium. He loved his job, he really did but picking up these extra shifts to act as official security on behalf of the Beacon Hills Police Department made the officer want to cringe internally. He was the lowest man on the totem pole at the department, the most recent one to get hired in, and always got stuck at the family events where there was sure to be screaming children that had zero discipline on proper public manners, loud and rowdy teenagers who he frequently found under the bleachers bumping uglies and in some very compromising positions, and parents who were more absorbed into themselves than actually paying attention to what their kids were doing around them. Working the school games was like glorified babysitting—his job was glorified babysitting really, but that was beside the point—but most nights he could just relax back and watch the game like every other spectator.

His youngest sister was on the cheerleading squad, a happy and bubbly teen with more spirit in her than anyone he’s ever met. Cora always had a way with movement, excelling in dance lessons and gymnastic classes and found a spotlight when it came to cheerleading, her bright spirit shining like a LED light in the dark. Game nights weren’t so bad when he could watch her do what she loved, it was mesmerizing and he envied how she found her calling at such a young age. Watching her now, a warm smile crept over his face, his inner wolf bristling with pride.

Even Isaac, the youngest Hale by adoption and two months difference from Cora, had grown since being adopted into the family into one of the finest young men Derek had ever met. Most teenage boys his age were rude, loud and utterly disrespectful but Isaac was calm, polite, and always willing to go the extra mile when it came to helping out one of his friends. He just wished that his younger brother had found a better friend in someone else who wasn’t so hung up on his Sergeant’s daughter, someone who wasn’t such a slacker, someone who wasn’t Scott McCall. Derek just wanted to watch his little brother play and his sister cheer; not deal with this kid.

“I swear Derek; I owe you big time for this.” Resisting the urge to round on the teen, Derek held himself together long enough to pop open Scott’s truck door and wiggle the rod into the small space to unlock the teen’s vehicle. He considered letting the teen go thirsty all night, being dumb enough to leave his own keys and water bottle inside his truck but reluctantly decided to open the teen’s truck seeing as how he’d have to do it later and the officer wanted to actually be home at a reasonable hour that night. The lock lodged itself the unlocked position and Scott quickly pulled his door open. Climbing in, he pulled the keys out of the ignition and reached into the center to pull his water bottle free, the teen climbed out and shut the door.

Derek growled, catching the absentminded teen’s attention, and pointed with his eyes to the driver’s seat where Scott’s key’s lay in the crevice of the seat and the back, shining reflectively under the beam of his LED flashlight. Clearing his throat, the officer rolled his eyes, exasperated and turned on his heel to stalk away, uncaring if Scott locks his keys in there another time. Walking back up to the stadium, looking forward to catch the opening pitch of the second half after missing nearly the entire half time show, the brunette’s eyes tracked the shadow moments along the cars.

He paused, catching a weird scent in the air, something he’d smelled earlier the week before that made his stomach churn and twist with bile. Moving with absolute certainty, his senses honing in on Lydia’s Mercedes and the strange shadow peeking into the back window, Derek’s inner wolf growled at the blatant disrespect for one of his own and moved in so fast that the person peeking into her back window never saw him coming. There was a loud squeak, a cry of pain as he manhandled the boy to the ground, forcing his face into the grass and slapping a pair of cuffs around the kid’s incredibly narrow wrists. The boy smelled off before a synthetic smell invaded his senses, a smell that wasn’t normal coated the boy’s emotions and clouding Derek’s capabilities to sense the fear wafting off of him. If not for the drastic spike in the child’s heartbeat, Derek would have thought he was completely calm in the struggle. This wasn’t right, something was wrong with this kid and the wolf inside of him was dying to know what the sickly smell was.

Roughly hauling the teen up, flattening him out over the trunk of Lydia’s expensive car and mindful of the girls paint job and careful dealership detailing Derek adjusted the cuffs around the teen’s wrists, double locking them to restrict involuntary tightening. Growling in the teen’s ear, a soft warning growl, his wolf took pride in the visible trembling radiating off the teen. Patting along the boy’s body, cringing at the teen’s body frame underneath the large hoodie and baggy jeans, Derek rolled the boy’s body around so he could look into the face and… not see a familiar student who he usually caught doing this.

His face was angular sharp, bony around the angle of the jaw and chin with hardly an extra ounce of fat to puff out his cheeks like the rest of the teenagers that attended BHSH, his orbits sunken in and tired dark and his bottom lip had a nasty split that could have been caused in their tussle, but a small part of the wolf believed that the busted lip was there long before Derek put his hands on the boy. There was dirt smears and grass stains coloring his skin, hiding the pale sickly color, and there was also blood and as much as he wanted to panic that he’d seriously hurt this boy he knew that most of the bloodied smell was on the teen before his hands were upon his body. Looking down at him, taking in the baggy jeans and the large hoodie, Derek realized that he couldn’t see the lines of the teen’s body as well as he should have. _God, this kid is thin._

“Who are you?” He growled, pulling the boy back up to his feet so he could properly talk to the teen. The boy refused to look up at the officer, not out of disrespect but more out of fear it seemed, keeping his head bowed down low and starring at his shoes where a hole was wearing through on the toe. “What’s your name, kid?” He was nothing more than a pup.

“S-St-S—“

Frowning as he watched the tremors radiate off his small frame, Derek gently pushed the teen back to lean against the hood of Lydia’s car, smelling something was wrong the moment the breeze picked up around them. The crowd roared in the background, the Bulldogs had scored from the sound of it. “Hey, take it easy.” Not risking the chance that he’d run the moment that Derek took the cuffs off—not that he couldn’t catch the little guy, his wolf was chomping at the bit for a good foot pursuit—he instead reached out to offer a grounding hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Hey, you alright?”

The boy nodded as Derek tipped his head back, inspecting the boys face and scowling at the busted lip marring his angular features. The pup was skinny, so skinny that a part of Derek didn’t want to touch him in fear that he’d break under his ministrations. Maybe that’s why his smell was so off, it was possible that this kid was sick with something and his body was deteriorating into nothing from the disease. He’d smelled it a few times when visiting his sister in the hospital, the different stenches of cancers and other diseases, infections, but nothing in his scent memory bank compared to the smell of the teen in front of him. Usually he could smell the person’s own scent signature under the guise of the illness, but with this teen there was nothing. “What is your name?”

The teen took a calming breath, holding it in his lungs longer than Derek felt necessary, before blowing it out slowly. His mouth moved, as if trying to remember how to use his words. “Stiles Stilinski,” he sighed.

Derek’s eyes widened. “Are you related to our chief?” The teen shrugged, his head dropping back down to look at his shoes and the new grass stain above his torn knee. This was beyond ridiculous! Derek was missing the game to play 21-Questions with this kid who was hardly offering any answers in return. He had half a mind just to arrest him for trying to break into Lydia’s car, but that would be a lot of paperwork. It’s not that he’s lazy he’d just rather watch the game. “Ok, what were you doing?”

Stiles rolled his wrists, hating the feeling of the metal rubbing against the bony knobs of his wrist bones. “I was hoping she left her car unlocked so I could get my school bag.” Stiles looked through the windshield at the blue NorthFace book-bag in the back seat and glanced back to the officer with a frown on his face. “I left my school bag here earlier by mistake, my house keys and homework is in there.”

It wasn’t a lie; the kid’s rapid but steady heartbeat confirming his story for the officer. “Alright,” he grumbled. Pulling the teen away from Lydia’s car Derek turned him around with a gentle force and bent him forward over the hood of Lydia’s Mercedes once more. His flashlight cradled in the crook of his shoulder, held firm by his neck, the beam shone brightly on Stiles’ incredibly small and bony hands. His fingers were curled in, protecting his palms and giving Derek a perfect view of a few split knuckles. The blood was dried. There were even scrapes on the child’s palms. Opening up one of the wrist cuff’s, the officer cringed at the bruising around the teen’s wrists that seemed to travel up his arms, disappearing into the darkness of his hoodie. Standing back to place his cuff’s back into their case on his duty belt, Derek steered Stiles’ reluctant body into the stadium.

He noticed how the fast movements made the boy jump, how any time someone bumped into him, his gait would falter forcing Derek to reach out and catch him, and how his eyes would track the stadium food the spectators were eating with envious eyes. It wasn’t long until they found Lydia and the usual group of friends the girl hung out with, crowded around the student section, donning their school spirit apparel. It was Allison who saw them first, turning to get Lydia’s attention and point down to the sidewalk where Derek stood with Stiles. The officer nodded to his sister, Laura who was chatting with his shift supervisor, Chris Argent, and also to Chris.

“Stiles!” Lydia pulled the trembling teen into a hug, tucking his head into her body and drawing him closer. Derek noted the visible tension in the teen’s posture at her touch, noticed how he seemed to favor his once side when her hand came down to support him, and hated how there was just something terribly off with this kid. He didn’t have enough to undoubtedly suspect any violence had been inflicted onto this kid, he needed just a bit more evidence than that, but he made a mental note to keep an eye on this kid. He’d talk to the school resource officer on Monday, get the whole story on this kid before he made any decisions about whether or not to make a house visit and see exactly what was going on. “What happened to—oh honey, let’s have you sit down.”

“I caught him by your car, Lydia. It looked like he was trying to break in. He was looking for his school bag.” The unspoken _take care of him_ was evident in the alpha’s voice before he turned to catch the last few minutes of the final quarter. Leaning against the fence, looking out onto the field watching Isaac pass to Jackson who scored, he realized he couldn’t focus on the game as much as he’d like to with the disturbing sight of Stiles’ body and the sickly scent that wafted off of him. He’d rather watch Cora, even Isaac, but Stiles’ sad face was seared into his mind and when Scott scored the final goal, winning the game with a crushing 15-2 win, he couldn’t find it in himself to cheer with the rest of the crowd at the obvious victory.

“You smelled it too,” Laura appeared by his side. She leaned into him, her reassuring weight settling into his wolf, calming him somewhat with her own alpha presence. It was chaos on the field, the players bouncing around in their victory, the cheerleaders cheering along with them and the fans rushing the field to congratulate the players. “I don’t know what it is either.”

Derek nodded and glanced over his shoulder to see only Allison and her dad left sitting in the bleachers, Stiles and Lydia were nowhere to be seen. “Something isn’t right with him,” Derek whispered lowly when a few parents started pushing past them to head out to their cars and leave for the evening.

“He’s sick, Derek—“

“No, he’s got marks on him.” He noticed Cora and Isaac running up to them. A small smile morphed his face from the sad expression to a warm one when he pulled Isaac into an awkward hug over the fence. “Good job!”

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” the two cubs looked at her with a weird expression before nodding in understanding. Derek nodded too. 

Scott wandered up to the group, a cheeky smile plasted over his face when he came to stand next to Derek. The wolf internally growled, making his siblings chuckle, before turning to glare down at the beta with an unamused look on his face. Taking in the boys apologetic stance, the shy smile, and shifty feet, the alpha roared in annoyance hating that a kid so inattentive was turned and now a part of their pack. "Scott!" The beta winced and waitde patiently for Derek to walk out to his truck with him to unlock the vehicle once again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no beta, and I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who took time to review, alert, bookmark and who left kudo's. I never thought this story would get that much attention, but I'm happy everyone seemed to enjoy the Hurt!Stiles angst I've been craving to read (but haven't found any).


	3. Chapter 3

Standing in the lunch line behind Lydia Monday afternoon, Stiles limped a few steps forwards as the line moved closer into the back kitchen area. Lydia handed him a tray and set to work on fixing herself another grandmaster salad, a Caesar one today, crispy chicken and a fruit salad with a few pita wedges, while also working on Stiles’ own lunch. He wasn’t sure how this unspoken agreement between them manifested from his first day of school, but earlier that morning the teen slipped Stiles another twenty and shoot him dirty look each time he tried to protest. It was easier to just let Lydia get her way and in the back of his mind, he kept a lump amount of how much she was giving him so that way, someday, he could return the favor and pay her back. Two weeks in this school meant forty dollars. She worked wordlessly as she layered the sandwich with tuna salad, provolone cheese, lettuce, green peppers, spinach and cucumbers. Grabbing another bag of Doritos, an apple and a banana, she nudged him down to the large refrigerator to grab them a set of cokes. She paid and left the kitchen in a flourish of Lydia sass, commenting how she’d save him a seat at the table.

Sighing, Stiles eyed one of the brownies on the platter that made his stomach growl loudly. As far as school lunches went, this school was by far the best smelling and aesthetically appealing. In short, it didn’t look like they scraped it out of the bottom of a hazmat bin and slapped it on a Styrofoam plate (read: his last two schools). Slipping one onto his tray, he handed over the ten dollar bill left over from the week before and waited for his eight dollar’s in change before slipping out and taking his coveted seat between Lydia and Cora. Stiles and Lydia kept their eyes on their lunches, the only acknowledgement that Stiles received from her was the girl slipping her hand into his under the table, offering a small squeeze. About him, the rest of their group continued to talk about the _insane_ game from last Friday, how one of the other players punched Jackson on the field and got carded, how earlier in the game the medic’s had to take someone out of the stadium from an injury of some kind, but most of all how easy it was for them to win.

Stiles and Lydia refused to talk about Friday, the teen next to him only offering small comments on the game here and there but never once did she mention the mess she found Stiles in. He had a weak moment in front of her as she ushered him out of the stadium, he broke down in the front seat of her car and had one of his more sever panic attacks he’s ever had. It baffled him how she knew almost immediately what to do but it shouldn’t surprise him as much as it did; this was Lydia for crying out loud! She drove him home, blessed his forehead with a soft kiss and watched him disappear around the back of the house before driving away, probably back to the school so she could meet up with Jackson. They didn’t talk about it, didn’t talk about the bloodied lip or the marks on his hands.

“So Stiles,” Scott started with a lazy look on his face. “I heard you met Derek.”

Freezing mid bite, he glanced up to see Scott starring expectantly at him. Putting his sandwich back down on his plate, suddenly losing his appetite, he leaned back and nodded. “Yeah…” Pulling his hand from Lydia’s, he wrung them tightly together in his lap willing away the memories of nearly getting arrested, the memories of Friday still haunting him. If he had gotten arrested, if Cora’s and Isaac’s older brother hadn’t stopped to ask what Stiles was doing, be patient and wait for him to work through his trauma, Stiles didn’t want to think of the consequences when his uncle would have to come post bail.  

“When did you meet Derek?” Danny leaned around Isaac to get a good look at Stiles. He popped a few grapes into his mouth.  

“Were you at the game Friday?” Jackson wondered out loud. “I didn’t see you.” He gasped suddenly from Lydia elbowing him in the side. He threw her a look, wondering what he did to deserve the jab, his hand coming up to rub lightly at the sore spot.

When Stiles only mutely nodded, Cora sighed and rearranged his hands in his lap so one of her own could smooth over the sore splits in his knuckles. It was strange, but every time she touched him the ache in his hands seemed to disappear. “He got to meet Laura too.” Allison nodded, offering a small smile to the teen sitting diagonally from him. Cora leaned into his side to rest her head on his shoulder, snuggling close and hating the way he involuntarily would pull away.

“The older Hale siblings are cool,” Scott stuffed another bite of his sandwich into his mouth. “Did you know that Derek’s a cop?” Not bothering to chew before speaking, it was a wonder anyone at the table was able to understand the teen. Choking, Scott relied on the gentle pats on the back from Isaac until he coughed up everything in his mouth onto his plate.

“Eww!” Lydia cried as she recoiled back into Jackson’s side when a piece of food from Scott’s mouth landed on her tray.

“Scott!” Allison scolded with a fiery look to Isaac who was still trying to help him out.

Danny, Jackson and Cora were laughing hysterically at Scott’s own folly. Stiles winced as he stared at the half chewed piece of food that lay harmless on Scott’s plate, the mound rolled onto its side making Lydia cringe next to him. His face felt funny for a moment and a bark of something bubbled out of him. _A laugh_ , his brain supplied for him. _That was a smile_. Cora smiled and moved back to her lunch and if her body was positioned a little closer on the bench to Stiles’, neither teen was going to say anything. Lydia fit her hand back into Stiles and went back to her lunch once Jackson wiped away Scott’s piece of food on her tray with a napkin. The scrawny teen’s appetite returned. Lydia smiled.

Stiles was surprised when he took the final bite of his tuna sandwich, the entire thing now gone and resting happily in his distended stomach. Slumping back his free hand absently came up to rub at the light bulge in his abdomen. Without a shirt on, Stiles knew what he looked like, knew he could count each of his ribs, trace the outline of his sternum, and see the sharp indentations of his hips. His back was just as bad, the knobs of his vertebrae visible from under his skin and his shoulder blades pressing painfully against his. Though having a steady lunch for the last week, and even a few snacking items for later in the evening when he could sneak some items home, he knew he was starting to put some weight back onto his skinny body, his insides starving for nutrition that now that he was getting something regularly he was starting to retain some weight. His body was holding anything and everything he was putting into it.

“Someone was hungry,” Jackson smiled. He leaned around Lydia to eye the empty paper pate that used to hold the teen’s sandwich and watched Stiles use his finger to scrape a glob of tuna from the plate. His blue eyes tracked the movement, watching as Stiles stuck his index finger in his mouth to suck the glob from the tip.

Blushing once he realized what he did, the blatant show he put on for Jackson catching Lydia’s amused attention, Stiles dropped his hands to his lap and shrugged. He eyed the brownie but wasn’t sure he had enough room in his stomach to fit the chocolatey treat without feeling like he’d throw up. Huffing in annoyance, knowing he couldn’t fit the brownie safely into his stomach, Stiles settled against Cora who was now leaning heavily into his side.

“Hush you,” Lydia swatted at the blonde. “He can eat as much as he wants.”

“I was just commenting that’s the most I’ve seen him eat.” Jackson defended before turning to Danny to discuss arrangements for transportation for their group of friends for the upcoming game on Friday that was an away game at North High School.  

“You should eat more though, Stiles.” Isaac took a bite of his fourth piece pizza and took a moment to chew before he continued. “Are you sick or something? Is that why you don’t eat a lot?” Isaac caught Cora’s heated glare from over Stiles’ shoulder and sunk into his seat, instantly knowing he’d messed up. Scott and Jackson looked on in wonder, waiting for the answer for the one thing they could all smell at the table.

The bell rang, and everyone reluctantly stood up without waiting to hear an answer. Pretending to fidget with something in his pocket so he was the last to get up, Stiles swiped the sandwich bag in Cora’s place and neatly sealed his brownie inside. He’d hide it in his locker and take it home for later to eat, along with the bag of Doritos and the two pieces of fruit. The coke he kept with him the rest of the day, knowing from experience that it tasted better chilled and not room temperature warm. Dumping his trash, he headed towards his locker to see Lydia and Jackson waiting patiently for him while exchanging lazy smooches. Exchanging his items, he turned to smile at them and head towards Government class. Sitting at their usual table in the back, Stiles leaned forwards so the both of them could hear him clearly while they dug around in their bags to pull out pens, paper and the weekend’s homework.

“I’m not, you know.” Both Lydia and Jackson froze. Setting back in his seat he reached into his bag for his homework with a small smile playing on his face. They had the wrong assumption, but still cared enough to take care of him either way. Class started without a hitch, their teacher coming around to collect the packets and head back to her desk to carry on with their lecture on the American Justice System.

Jackson appeared to fidget, his fingers uncharacteristically tapping against the desk and his foot bouncing under the surface. His fingers reached for a blank sheet of paper in the back of his spiral notebook and ripped off a corner. Lydia watched him scrawl something neatly before pushing it across the desks to sit under Stiles’ nose.

The teen reached out and read the note discretely so their teacher wouldn’t notice. Unfolding the flaps his eye scanned the two words written neatly on the note. Smiling, he slipped the note into the back of his notebook to hang onto for later. Focusing through the rest of class, Stiles couldn’t wipe the smile from his face for the rest of the class, the rest of the day, the words ruminating in his head while giving him the warm-and-fuzzies in his tummy.

_I’m glad_

~*~*~

His idea of an easy evening was safely sitting in his room doing his homework while his Uncle Mike was working his 24 at the station, not due home to well after he would be at school the following day. His idea of an easy evening wasn’t piled around the large family room television smashed between Lydia and Cora on the couch watching re-run’s of South Park on TV while eating pizza, chips, pop and cookies. While it was fun, the most socialization he’d had outside of school since he could remember, he knew he would have to get home soon. But his body was relaxed, pliant on the couch cushions of the ridiculously large couch that extended from almost one end of the large rug in the center to the other, making an angle to carry on along the side and the other end with a connected foot rest. Cora’s legs rest on the ottoman, her thigh brushing his body.

Lydia was curled around Jackson, Stiles curled around her, everyone’s eyes glued to the television with Isaac and Scott in the kitchen piling more chips a mile high on their plates with a large dollop of dip. It was comfortable, the laziness of the evening curled around each other. Danny and Allison had other plans that evening; Allison had a family thing where as Danny was busy working the evening shift at the local Hollister store a couple of towns over at the large shopping center. Even without two of his friends surrounding him, making him feel safe, warm and so relaxed he felt that he could fall asleep, it was nice to act like a normal teenager.

A few times, Talia Hale—Cora’s and Isaac’s gorgeous mom—would wander by and throw a weird look over at Stiles before her face would smooth over into a warm smile that Stiles fondly remembered from somewhere deep in his youth. The first time he caught that soft smile earlier that evening when he first arrived, the teen wasn’t prepared for his breath to catch, snag somewhere inside his throat and choke him with the sad memory of the woman who always had a fresh baked cookie for him every Monday when he came home from school. The memory hit him so fast it felt like a freight train had just slammed into his chest, pinning him to the wall with enough force to force the air from his lungs. Lydia did her usual thing, offering a comforting touch by working her fingers into the back of his neck before he had time to peel himself from the island in the kitchen to land against the wall, effectively calming him instantly. Nearly three hours later, Stiles was used to the look and found himself smiling under the warmth of it.

Jerking his eyes open just as he was about to fall asleep to Cora’s gentle petting, her fingers carding through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp wonderfully massaging the tense muscles beneath. He didn’t remember when his body had been manipulated from being curled around Lydia to snuggling into Cora’s side, but with her nails scraping against his head, fingers curling into the slightly longer hair he’d been trying to grow out since Lydia commented that she thought he’d look _dashing,_ he really couldn’t care how he moved but that he really didn’t want the scratching to stop. Scrunching his nose and he squeezed his eyes shut, he wanted to make a noise of disapproval at Cora’s soft coo but found he had no energy to care. He was warm and so relaxed that if his eyes hadn’t noticed that it was past ten in the evening he would have drifted off to sleep. Jerking up into an upright, sitting position he winced at the sudden change in elevation that made his eyes swim for a moment. Cora startled and Lydia turned to gaze in wonder at him for a long moment. Jackson’s eyes tracked his jerky movements while the two on the floor rolled to avoid Stiles feet coming to rest on the hardwood flooring, his body creating enough momentum to haul his weight from the couch to move towards the door.

“I have to leave; I still have some homework to finish up before class tomorrow.” He stood up, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck where a crick was forming from the angle he was dozing at. He hoped they’d understand that he wanted to stay, he honest to God didn’t want to leave but if he didn’t finish his homework and get into bed he was going to be in deep shit the following day. Lydia was the first to look at the time and stood with the same amount of energy that Stiles did.

“I’ll drive you,” she said simply. Reaching out for Jackson’s key’s resting on the end table, she shook her head at her boyfriend. Leaning down to kiss him briefly, she muttered softly that he could stay to finish the episode and that she’d be back soon to have them return to his house. They had special plans for later that evening anyways…

While Lydia looked at him with a disapproving look, noting how Stiles didn’t have a jacket to slip on before heading out into the chill she quickly moved to the driver’s side door to hop in and turn the heat on. Stiles didn’t seem chilled, but any prolonged exposure would surely settle a cold in his bones that he couldn’t afford to get. While she fussed with the dials, turning Jackson’s rock station to something with a sad melody and a powerful female vocalist, nothing Stiles’ brain immediately recognized, he turned with a shy smile on his face towards her. “Thanks Lyd,” her returning smile was worth it. “I appreciate the ride.”

“As if I’d let you walk home twenty or so miles to the outskirts of town.” She huffed annoyed. “You life by the preserve, it’d take you hours to walk home.” He shrugged weakly, still smiling and clearly thankful that he didn’t have to. “Plus, no jacket!”

Stiles held up his hoodie sleeve, thinking that it was pacify her and her ongoing rant on his lack of appropriate clothes he got almost daily. “No, that hoodie is paper thin and would do nothing to retain body heat. I see you in school! You shiver coming into school in the mornings.”

“Well it’s all I have, Lyd. We really don’t have the money right now to get me new clothes.” A truth and a lie; he hated lying to Lydia. He hated lying period but especially to his new friends as they always seemed to have this sixth sense to know when he was lying. He’d gotten good over the years in schooling his features to remain neutral to fool the cops, nurses and questioning teachers, but most of his friends would tip their head to the side and look at him with this sad expression. The only two who didn’t was Lydia and Allison, but the two girls had other ways of showing they knew he was lying. Allison would bite her lip and Lydia would usually call him on his shit.

Leaning back into the seat of Jackson’s insanely expensive car, Stiles allowed his hand to come up and rest on his distended stomach. His stomach so full of the delicious homemade pizza Mrs. Hale made for them and all the other delicious treats that his stomach walls were pushing against his skin and making him have a light bump in his stomach. It was painful and something Isaac called a _food baby_ , but was assured it would go away once he digested everything. He was positive he wouldn’t need to eat for a month after everything he just consumed.

“You should hang out with us more often, you’re fun Stiles.”

“I thought I do hang out with you guys?”

“At school you do, but you should also come over more often for more pizza-television fun.” Pulling into the driveway, Stiles breathed a sigh of relief to see no cars parked in the drive. “Your uncle working tonight?”

“Yeah, he doesn’t get off until 0800.” Reaching into his pocket for his keys, Stiles rested his hand on the door handle and turned back to Lydia when she rested her hand on his knee.

“Don’t you get lonely all by yourself?” He wanted to laugh in her face, days like this were his saving grace and were the days that he could relax and not have to worry about much. It was easy to forget everything when his uncle wasn’t around to constantly remind him of what a little shit he really was. He wondered when his new friends would see it too, wondered when they would finally drop him for someone who was worth the space.

“Nah, I like the quiet.” He smiled to reassure her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Accepting a kiss to the corner of his mouth, he blinked in surprise and prayed that Jackson wouldn’t be brassed that his girlfriend had kissed him there. “Night Lydia,” he called while climbing out and jogging up the drive to disappear around the back. He waited until the car lights disappeared into the night, blanketing his yard in a cloak of darkness, until he fiddled with his keys to try and figure out which one was the right key to fit into the back door. Why he waited, he didn’t know, but he hated himself for it now because a low growl caught his attention. Dropping his keys, his eyes scanned around his surroundings looking for the critter that made its way off the preserve and into the residential area encroaching on the wooded territory.

The growl turned into a loud rumble, coming from a completely different direction than it had originally come from. It didn’t sound like a mountain lion, but more like that of an incredibly territorial dog, a wolf. His heart pounded, he couldn’t find his keys and the snarling was getting closer. Chancing a quick glance behind him, Stiles suddenly wish he hadn’t because of the glowing set of red eyes starring him down and waiting for him to make a run for it. He could barely make out the outline of the beast, but whatever it was, it was large. Pointed ears, a long thick tail swishing back and forth feeling the movement of the air around them, and a long snout with an incredible set of sharp fangs bared for Stiles terror to run with. This animal was going to annihilate him if he didn’t do something soon. If he stayed still, it would be easier for the critter to maul him, if he ran, he’d activate the angry things prey drive and he’d be run into the ground before being mangled; damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

His sneakers pounded against the old pavement of their driveway, tearing down into the street with the beast hot on his trail. He wasn’t going to make it far, the animals snapping jaws were right on his heels, but he’d be damned if he made it easy for the animal to just have him. He’d fight this for as long as he could, he wouldn’t be victimized by this too. Vaulting over some trashcans, making sure to tip them as he went, a triumphant smile graced his face at the resonating metallic _thwack_ the wolf made with the metal cans. A few lights turned on from the houses that he ran by, it was nearing midnight and this was usually a very quiet area of town; all this noise was sure to attract someone’s merciful attention. But when a sudden spot light flooded his vision, Stiles skidded to a halt.

Falling to the ground, his legs and lungs crying in agony from the exertion, he was surprised to feel a pair of hands on him trying to hold him down instead of a pair of claws and snapping jaws. “Hey, its okay, you’re okay! Calm down, kid.”

Jerking from his terror, Stiles starred up into the worried face of Officer Hale— _Derek_ , his brain supplied—and finally relaxed enough for the officer to ease his stressed body down onto the ground. He let the guy move his arms around, positioning them over his head to ease his heaving chest and allow the air to pass more freely from the air into his body, something he was greatly appreciative of. “Derek,” he wheezed while trying to calm his body enough to warn the officer of the large beast barreling down the street after him. “The wolf—“

“That’s what you were running from?” He scrunched his nose, making a face for some reason, making his eyes darken in what appeared to be anger. His head swiveled around looking for any obvious threat and when he found none he looked down at Stiles with a soft expression. “How you doing? You want me to call your uncle to come check you over?”

“No!” His heart rate and breathing had slowed considerably but at the mention of his uncle his nerves spiked, drawing the officer’s full attention back to him. Sitting up quickly, he tried to push Derek away but the guy was like an immovable force, unmoving under Stiles weak protests. The teen’s hands tightly gripped through his uniform shirt, seeking out the stability of his duty vest underneath, and curling his fingers so his body could argue with itself on whether to push the officer away, or draw the safety his body provided closer. Derek’s hands came out to steady the teen, strong fingers curling around the teen’s bony hands to unhook Stiles’ claw like fingers from his person.  

“It’s okay, you’re fine Stiles.” Startled by the officer holding him close, Stiles found himself drawn to the incredible heat the officer’s body seemed to radiate, curling into the warmth and savoring it as his body shook from the creeping cold coming over his skin. Lydia was right; this flimsy hoodie did nothing to shield him from the night chill that blanketed the town. Derek hugged him close before standing, steadying the teen on his feet before leading him to the passenger’s side of his patrol vehicle. Opening the Explorer’s door, he watched Stiles climb in before shutting it to come around to the driver’s side. The cabin of the SUV wasn’t nearly as warm as the officer, but it was better than being exposed to the cold outside.

His breathing had calmed considerably, respirations lowered back down to normal levels, welcoming adequate tidal volume to fill his lungs and thoroughly oxygenate his body. Settling into the curve of the seat, Stiles watched Derek look around outside for the wild animal, his body still on edge but calming considerably now that the threat was no longer in sight. His eyes fearfully watched Derek scan the area, his green eyes seeking out the animal that had been chasing the teen for how far he wasn’t sure. Glancing around himself, Stiles realized he had no idea where he was or how far he had run or how to get back to a main road so he could get home. Almost as if sensing his discomfort, Derek turned a concerned eye to the teen resting in his patrol vehicle and shook his head, his hand lifting from the hilt of his sidearm to gesture out into the darkness past his flashing overhead lights.

Stiles silently watched Derek climb into the vehicle from the corner of his eyes, his gaze fixed down at his fingers that where playing with the frayed edge of his hoodie, all the while desperately trying not to look up at the officer with a lost expression. The wolf… giant dog… whatever it was just disappeared, leaving Stiles looking like the town loony who ran from his own shadow. Derek spoke into his radio, something that Stiles didn’t catch only because he was forcing himself to focus on the splitting string pulling out of his hoodie’s fabric. “Stiles?” He called softly, stalling the teen’s fidgeting with just the calmness of his voice but only for a second as an uncontrollable tremor taking hold of his hands. “Stiles, hey, it’s okay. It’s alright, you’re fine now.” Reaching over Derek clasped his hands around Stiles’ own shaking ones.

Stiles jerked away from the touch, instantly hating himself for putting the hurt look on the officers face. Derek’s hands tightened, trapping his trembling fingers within his own to ground the nervous teen. “I swear it was there, it was right—“

“Stiles, I believe you. We had 9-1-1 calls for miles from neighbors informing us of a kid being chased by a wild animal.”

“Miles?”

“Where do you live, Stiles?” Stiles mumbled his reply and kicked out his legs. His muscles were suddenly feeling really tight. “Stiles, that’s five miles away from here. What do you say I get you back home?”  

They drove in silence, the only sound drifting through the cabin of the SUV was Derek’s radio, the other officer’s chattering on air and even a medical emergency coming over on the fire channel calling his uncle and the rest of his crew out into the field for a 55 year old male with chest pain. He caught himself drifting in and out, his stomach upset from running with so much food sitting in it, his muscles protesting from the exertion and his body just craving for the lumpy horizontal plane of his bed. Kicking his feet out, trying to stretch out his cramping muscles in his quadriceps, he started fidgeting uncontrollably. Toes wiggling, heels bouncing, fingers twitching and his eyes blinking at a faster than usual rate all the while he could feel Derek’s own irritation growing within the officer’s body. This usually happened when his stress levels touched astronomical levels, shooting straight up through the stratus sphere and into orbit, and so far the only space oddity that had been able to tolerate his jittery behavior was somewhere in Beacon Hills curling up with Jackson doing God knows what.

Derek’s hand shot out again, reaching out to grab at Stiles’ own twitching ones, and while only managing to wrangle one into his grasp he knew he had the teen’s attention. He smiled in the boy’s direction, a weak little half lift of the corner of his mouth. “Stiles, you’re okay.”

But he wasn’t okay, he was out of the house and it was nearly midnight! He desperately wished Derek would shove his foot down on the accelerator just so he could get home and into the safety of his house, locked behind closed doors. His fidgeting settled but there was still the stirring itch beneath his skin trying to claw itself out. He needed to get home, he needed his medication before the itch became too much and a panic attack wrecked his body, throwing his conscious into an oblivion. He hated them, the panic attacks, because the darkness in the recess of them always managed to swallow him whole, suffocating him in the nothingness and forcing him deeper in the abyss. He was so fucking lonely that it hurt every waking moment he wasn’t surrounded by the new found friends he’d somehow made in Beacon Hills, and Derek’s fortified presence so close was doing something to his insides, loosening the twisting knots and making him feel as if he could breathe again. Taking a deep, calming breath he let it out in a long huff and felt somewhat better, but not really at the same time.

“I just need some time to settle,” he responded softly as he jerked involuntarily from Derek’s gentle grasp. His hands sought out the string again that seemed to multiply every time his twitching fingers touched and played with the string. He needed something to occupy his hands.

The officer’s face pulled into a soft smile. “If you keep playing with that, there will be nothing left of your hoodie.” Derek commented fondly. His smile grew when Stiles clamped his hands over the absent front pocket. From the looks of the rest of the hoodie, the random holes near the seams, loose strings, and the rips along the sleeves, the old sweatshirt had all but had it. It smelled of Stiles, not the way the officer had expected it to smell. The absent garbage scent wasn’t there but instead was Stiles’ unique, sickly smell that always seemed to permeate the air and make the wolf inside him whimper, reminding him that there was just something not right about this boy.

Pulling into the teen’s driveway, a small glint caught their eyes. The brunette’s keys were lying in the driveway in the same place he dropped them earlier. Shivering at the thought of getting out into the cold, getting out of the warmth of Derek’s cruiser, Stiles paused in his movement to get out and settled back against the seat. “Thank you,” he whispered hating how small his voice sounded.

“Here,” Derek reached behind Stiles’ seat for something. The teen twisted and watched Derek pull free a black fleece jacket. Curious as to what Derek was doing, Stiles silently watched him get out and walk around his truck to open Stiles’ door. Wrapping the jacket around the teen’s narrow shoulders, Derek smoothed his hands down the teen’s long arm, warming his body with just a simple touch. Blinking is confusion, his eyes traveled down to look at the warm jacket enveloping his lithe frame. His eyes stayed on the stitched on departmental badge--Beacon Hills Police Department—where on the other side the officers name was stitched into the fabric; Ofc. D. J. Hale. “It’s a little big, but it’ll keep you warm.” The wolf bristled at the sight of his jacket on the teen, a subtle marking the brunette as his, as pack.

Stiles stiffened, his hands instantly coming up to try and push the jacket off his shoulders. Derek’s own met his half way, gently coaxing the material back over his body. “Officer—“

“You can call me Derek, Stiles.” Stiles blinked in confusion.

“ _Derek,_ ” if felt weird saying his first name; a good weird. “Derek, I can’t take your jacket.”

“Yes, you can.” Fitting Stiles’ fast moving hands into the sleeves and manipulating his wrists through the cuff’s the officer smiled down at his handiwork before zipping up the incredibly warm fleece. He hardly wore the thing, he was warm all the time and that jacket only made him sweat. Besides, it looked a lot better on Stiles even if it was a few sizes too big.

“But—“

He couldn’t help himself, touching the teen and running his hands over his arms, scent marking him through touch. He was practically pack already, something that took years to accomplish for humans seemed to happen almost overnight for the teen as his beta’s appeared readily willing to accept him into their ranks. Whether he knew it or not, Stiles was one of them and the jacket only reinforced his thoughts. Peeling his hands off of Stiles, reminding himself that he was here in an official capacity, that the stench hanging in the air of an unknown wolf had just sought out an attacked a human was priority number one compared to scent marking the teen. “It’s fine, I don’t want to see you get sick.”

“Thank you, Derek.” Sliding out of the cruiser’s passengers seat, Stiles followed Derek up his drive to retrieve his keys while softly telling the officer what happened once Lydia dropped him off. Derek made a few humming comments while reaching down to swipe the keys off the cracked pavement. Turning, he deposited the set into Stiles offered palm.

“You going to be okay?” Stiles jerkily nodded while taking a few hasty steps backwards towards the stairs at the back of the house that lead to the back door. Derek noticed the twitching had returned, the boy’s hands trembling under the weight of the keys made the shaking that much more obvious. Derek didn’t believe him for one second that he was going to be okay but had no choice but to trust Stiles on this because something was causing the uncertainness and the officer had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t the chase he’d just been in. “Have a good night, Stiles.”

The teen watched Derek get back into the driver’s seat and roll out of his driveway, offering one last wave towards him. “Bye Derek,” he whispered once the BHPD vehicle started rolling down the street. Glancing up, he inwardly groaned at the watchful eye of his nosey neighbor peeking through her kitchen window watch the whole exchange. There was no doubt she was going to be talking with his uncle about this; his involvement with the police was surely going to be a thing that popped up in their next conversation. His body already started aching at the thought of how upset his uncle was going to be with him.

Retreating to the safety of his room, the teen carefully hid the officer’s jacket in his closet and changed into an old pair of sweats that were actually a size too small for him. The cuffs of his pant legs came up to about four inches above his ankle and the material hugged his limbs like a second skin almost. They were uncomfortable but all he had. Not bothering with a shower, he’d take a fast one in the morning, Stiles laid down and promptly fell asleep.

~*~*~

His bike was trashed. The bars were bent, the tires were slashed and the seat was chewed beyond all recognition. He’d found it left at a park a year ago and now he didn’t have anything to get him to school because a wild animal decided to use it as a chew toy. That’s how he found himself walking along the sidewalk in the early morning cold hugging Derek’s jacket tight around his body. His breath came out in visible puffs and his hands were numb to the touch. Class started in fifteen minutes and he still had a lot more walking to do; not only was he going to get in trouble over last night, but being late for school _and_ not having his homework completed. He was so dead…

“Hey, Stiles!” Jerking out of his thoughts of demise, Stiles turned to the red Ford, Ranger that pulled up alongside of him and noticed Scott sitting in the driver’s seat. “Need a lift?”

Climbing in, he quickly put his seat belt out and gave a grateful look towards the other teen. “Thanks, Scott.”

“No problem m—“the teen’s eyes starred openly at Stiles’ jacket. His nostrils flared for a moment until a smile broke out over his face. “You run into Derek last night? I thought Lydia dropped you off.” Scott made a fast turn onto the main road and dropped his foot down heavily on the gas pedal. Stiles hoped they wouldn’t get pulled over.

“I had the worst night,” he groaned. “After Lydia dropped me off, this huge wolf chased me five miles from the house!”

Scott stiffened, his hand controlling the steering column of his truck balled into a white knuckled fist. “Did it hurt you?” Stiles shook his head. “It didn’t bite you?”

“No, somehow I outran it. Derek said that the station was getting a bunch of calls from neighbors that there was a wild animal chasing some kid. I guess we made enough noise to draw attention because if he hadn’t showed up I think I might be puppy-chow.” Scott remained silent. His posture loosened as he pulled into a parking space but Stiles could still see the worry on the other teen’s face. Getting out, they both started making their way into the school, walking silently side by side with Scott every so often brushing against his arm or reaching out to pat him on the shoulder.

“Just be careful,” Scott commented once they passed through the double doors. Stiles nodded and awkwardly accepted a hug from the teen. He could feel a few people starring at them even after Scott pulled away. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed.

“Save you a seat.” Stiles smiled and turned to head towards his locker with just five minutes to get to class. A few paces away he heard Scott call out to him again. “Nice jacket!” Turning with a smile on his face, he waved at the dopey haired teen. A small laugh escaped his mouth making him think that maybe everything was going to be okay.

Somehow…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the late update guys! Life got in the way, and so did work and school. I was busy -_-
> 
> But thanks again for all the amazing comments you guys have been leaving behind. But again, I don't have a beta so sorry for any and all glaring grammatical or spelling errors.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap! Over 3,000 hits?! You guys are amazing and those of you who have left Kudo's and the ones who left comments I wish I could hug you all. The support is amazing. Enjoy! :D

He would have taken the damn fleece off if it weren’t so cold out. His body was normally ice cold, fingers numb and trembling with a chill that seemed forever present under his skin, but today he couldn’t stop the involuntary shivering when he found himself bold enough to slip the incredibly warm fleece off. Derek’s fleece was still cruiser warm from the night before, making it feel like a mini-furnace against his skin trapping what little heat his body had in the space between the material and his body and warming his core to an incredible temperature. The warmth was a nice reprieve from his usual chill. While the jacket felt amazing the unwanted attention it brought along with wearing it wasn’t what Stiles wanted to broadcast. He’d rather slip into the background and be the anonymous shadow that hung out with his friends where no one questioned why he was wearing Officer Hale’s jacket. It was like Lydia or Allison wearing Jackson or Scott’s letterman jacket, the same principle applied and he wasn’t sure how he felt about Derek giving him his jacket.

_I hardly know him…_

None of his friends seemed fazed, though every so often he would catch a sly smile when they thought he wasn’t looking. He didn’t really care either way, the fleece was warm and the rest of the student body could shove their opinions where the sun didn’t shine. Stepping out into the cool air of the afternoon, Stiles glanced around the students piling onto the busses and into their vehicles to head home for the day. He had half an eaten chicken sandwich in his back pack and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and he couldn’t wait to get home to eat. Gripping the straps of his backpack in his hands he took a couple of steps forwards until two pairs of arms encircled his own, steering him in the opposite direction towards a honking car.

“We’ll give you a ride, Stiles.” Cora’s smile was infectious, but he still protested knowing that the Hale house was literally on the opposite side of town from where he lived. He couldn’t ask them to take him home and waste… “Nonsense silly,” she pushed Isaac into the back seat. Climbing in after him, she pulled the front seat back and gave him an expectant look through the back window.

“Laura doesn’t mind, Stiles.” Isaac smiled around his sister’s faces, his hand curling towards him in an offering motion for the teen to climb into the front seat.

“Yeah,” Laura beamed. “Laura doesn’t mind.”

Isaac and Cora snickered in the backseat at her reference to herself in the third person.

“Thank you,” he muttered loud enough for her to hear as he climbed into the front seat. Buckling his seatbelt, he instantly regretted his decision when he realized that his uncle would be home when he got there. He could hear Cora and Isaac talking to Laura from the back seat, talking about the upcoming game Friday and how it was an away series for Friday’s game, Saturday morning’s JV scrimmage and Sunday’s varsity scrimmage against Illyria. The whole school was going, student’s lodging in hotel’s surrounding the school to the south of them and looking forward to the warmer weather California was typically known for instead of the constant forty-degree weather they had been experiencing lately up north. Fun in the sun and a few good games to boost their Lacrosse team’s standing in the Suburban League was what everyone was looking forward to while Stiles counted the list of items on his chore list to have completed by Monday morning.

“It’ll be so much fun!” Cora’s hands came around the front seat to sink her fingers into the material of her brother’s jacket, squeezing Stiles shoulders and bringing him back into the seat. “You’re coming, right?”

“Family event,” he lied quickly. The immediate sideways glance Laura threw him made him fidget. “My uncle and I have plans.” He was just digging his hole deeper and Laura’s look only seemed to get darker with each word that passed through his mendacious mouth. She nodded, and he knew she didn’t believe him. He hadn’t really given them a reason not to trust him, so what was her reason for the dark look?

Cora and Isaac were silent for a moment in the back seat. “Well that’s a bummer,” Isaac sighed. “You sure you can’t come?”

“Yeah, my uncle doesn’t like to change his plans.” Not a lie.

Pulling into his driveway, Stiles turned to Laura to offer another sincere thank you before getting out of the car and stumbling up his driveway. He prayed that they would leave before his uncle would notice the bright red Mustang in the driveway, but as he looked up he saw a familiar pair of black boots in his line of sight. His heart clenched painfully in his chest because he was so screwed when the Hales left. “Stiles, you should have called if you needed a ride.” The teen didn’t miss the way his uncles eyes blazed when he caught sight of the fleece wrapped around his nephew’s body. He also didn’t miss the muscles pulling tight in the man’s jaw as he seemingly clenched his teeth. His voice was calm and sincere, a façade he put on every time they were in new company and he had to pretend to be the loving uncle he really wasn’t.  

“It’s no big deal, Mike.” Laura appeared next to Stiles. Wrapping a protective arm around his body, drawing the teen into her side, she smiled warmly up at Mike. A shrug rolled off her shoulders, a dismissive gesture over her taking his nephew home. “I was picking up my little brother and sister and offered a ride to Stiles.”

“Well that won’t be necessary. He knows he can call if he needs a ride.” Laura’s grip tightened when Stiles body involuntarily stiffened.

“Seriously Mike, it’s no big deal. Stiles is a sweetheart,” she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple for an extra measure of good faith. “Either my brother or myself can take him home for you. I know you’re busy with those extra shifts you’ve been picking up at the station. Still no luck with the insurance company and your wife’s insurance plan?”

Stiles cringed. Mike was already pissed as it was; why not bring up his dead wife while we’re at it? Let’s make the angry man before them even madder just so Stiles could pay for it later! He couldn’t blame Laura really, she had no way of knowing what talking about his deceased wife did to Mike and how he usually reacted once alone. Swallowing back the lump in his throat he contemplated his chances if he were to bolt into the woods and how long it would take his uncle to hunt him down.   

“You’re very kind.” Stiles wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “Stiles, give the jacket back and head inside. You have homework to do, I’m sure.” Laura didn’t know what the slight tick in his jaw meant, didn’t know what would come later when they left, but her arm only seemed to tighten around his shoulders. God, he wanted the fire-medic to take him home with her. “Now, Stiles!”  

Quickly tearing out of Laura’s grasp, Stiles dropped his bag to the ground and fiddled with the zipper of Derek’s jacket. Sliding it down and unclasping the two ends he fought with the fabric for a moment until the jacket freed itself from his wrists. Neatly folding the material into something presentable, Stiles handed the jacket to Laura and made to sure avoid her frowning face. She tried to push the black fleece back into his hands, muttering something how Derek wouldn’t mind Stiles holding onto his jacket for him, but Stiles turned and made haste in getting inside with his school bag slung over his shoulders.

Darting up the stairs to drop off his school bag into his room, he quickly made his way back down the stairs to start dinner for his uncle before he went into work at his second job. Like Laura who was a nurse at the hospital, Mike filled his free time at the private ambulance company a few towns over and would have to leave in a few hours for an overnight shift. Rounding the wall to head into the kitchen he heard Laura’s car roll down the drive way before a fist connected with the side of his face, knocking him back a few paces until a pair of hands descended upon his throat, holding him down against the hardwood floors. “What were you thinking bringing them here?”

“I’m sorry!” He squeaked.

Mike growled low in his throat, fixating his gaze down at his nephew. “Not yet you’re not.”

~*~*~

Stiles didn’t go to school Wednesday, Thursday or Friday. His uncle forced him to stay home, the  dark bruise on his face enough reason to keep the teen out of school in fear of officials coming down and snooping around. His head hurt, no doubt a concussion being the culprit behind the constant pain pulsating through his skull. The first few nights he was scared to fall asleep in fear he’d hemorrhage in his slumber and not wake up in the morning, the worry for a potential bleed around his brain too worrisome to allow for a few moments of needed rest. By Friday the pain wasn’t as bad but it still hurt like a bitch and he allowed himself a small afternoon nap, but he knew he’d have a lot of explaining to do for the ugly green bruise he’d be sporting come Monday. Mike said he called the school, giving some lame excuse of his nephew being ill with a cold, the flu, an upset stomach, something that he could explain away with a simple discussion of a high fever that makes the office officials cringe and allow the students to stay home in favor of keeping the rest of the student body bacteria free. Thankfully it was only Friday evening and he still had a few days to come up with a good excuse for the bruise.

Curling tighter in on himself, pulling the blanket higher up on his shoulders, Stiles stomach clenched painfully. His hands kneaded the knots forming there, reminding the teen that he needed to eat something for his body to fight the pain away, to keep an impending cold at bay so he could return to school come Monday with a somewhat chipper smile on his face and an even better story on why he had a greening bruise on his jaw and temple and not look like a full blown snot monster. The sandwich he’d brought home from school lay squished and spoilt at the bottom of the trash can in the drive way hidden under a large trashbag, along with the deflated bag of Doritos’ that _poofed_ in a late evening tussle Tuesday night. Mike was at work, working another extra shift at the station in favor of leaving Stiles at home to fend for his own self.

Forcing himself up, the teen limped down the stairs and out the door to head down to the corner store to pick up a sandwich from one of the coolers. It would take him about an hour’s worth of walking but the promise of a days-old sandwich from the trusty cooler that always had discounted lunchmeat and cheese made the painful walk that much more appealing if the hunger cramps would go away. Upset tummy be damned, he was hungry. Stepping out the back door, making sure his house key was tucked away safely in his sweatpants pocket Stiles took a deep breath and started on his way towards the corner store.

It was drizzling out, of course it was. The rain seeped through his hoodie, soaking his T-shirt underneath and radiating the chill down to his bones making his uncles lie about a cold all that much more real. His sweat pants were soaked. Even his socks buried in his old sneakers were saturated from the incessant drizzle. If he were to get sick, come Monday he’d have to return to school sick or not. He could turn back now, get back into the house and warm up with a warm mug of water but the prospect of food in his tummy made his feet trudge on. He didn’t dare touch any of the food in the kitchen, it was an unspoken rule that he didn’t.

Coming up to the stores main door, the teen internally whimpered at the _Sorry, we’re closed_ sign turned around in the front window. Life just wasn’t fair! Looking through the window he could see the stand that had his sandwich sitting on its chilled shelf just inside the glass door of the shelving unit. He knew it was well past late, somewhere around the midnight mark heralding the closing of all the stores in the small town of Beacon Hills. Nothing stayed open much past nine in the evening, much less stayed open past eleven. He’d have to turn home and head out early in the morning in search of something to eat. Turning around, a bright light blinded him for a moment until a black sports car came to a stop in the parking lot.

“Stiles?”

_No…_

Taking a step back as Derek emerged from the car the teen jumped when his back connected with the store’s brick wall. Derek jogged up to him, his clothes slowly becoming as drenched as Stiles’ were with the harder downpour that started up about a few minutes ago, and came to stand next to him under the small awning of the stores front, shielding himself from the rain. Standing so close to the officer, Stiles swore he could practically feel the man’s warmth from a few inches away and when he reached out, his hands connecting with Stiles cold skin, the officer’s touch felt like a warm blanket and he craved more. “You’re freezing,” he commented.

“I—I’m f—f—fin—fine.” He didn’t care that Derek brought his wet body into his side, the man was warm and Stiles was freezing. So what if his teeth were chattering? So what if he was shaking? He’d warm up eventually.

“Come on, let’s get you warmed up.” Leading Stiles through the rain towards his car, the officer assisted Stiles in getting in before running around to the trunk to get something before darting into the driver’s side. Slamming the car door shut, he shivered for a moment and started digging through his large gym bag. Stiles curious eyes watched him root around until a large, dark blue bath towel was pulled from the bottom. “Take your clothes off.”

Jerking back, his body connecting with the seat, Stiles openly starred at the officer. His hands fisted themselves in his sopping wet hoodie, the material oozing water with his tight grip. He knew he was getting Derek’s seat’s soaked, that the guy was only trying to help, but he wasn’t about to change in front of the man with the knowledge that he would see what lay under the shadows of his clothes. “I could just walk home—“

“Stiles, you’ll get sicker. Isaac said you’ve been out all week with—what happened?” His hand reached out to catch the teen’s ducking chin with his gentle fingers, turning his face so his green eyes could clearly visualize the dark discoloration on the teen’s cheek. “Stiles,” his voice lowered. “What happened?”

The brunette swallowed thickly. “I fell,” he lied quickly. Derek’s nose flared for a moment but his face remained neutral, his usual hard gaze remained unreadable as usual. “I got dizzy at the top of the stairs and fell. Stupid cold,” he sighed weakly. All this lying, covering up Mike’s handy work, was really getting exhausting. It would just be easier to tell Derek the truth—he’s a God damn police officer for crying out loud! The one person who could help him sat right next to him, almost begging to know what was really wrong and he was too chicken shit to tell him the fucking truth! Too afraid that the man sitting beside him wouldn’t actually believe him, too scared that Mike would somehow get away with this and come back for vengeance for his nephew running his sinful mouth. No, he just had to wait a little while longer and then Mike could have whatever he wanted so long as Stiles could have his freedom afterwards. 

“Stiles!” Jerking from his thoughts, the teen starred wide eyed at the officer. Derek’s hands moved his own aside, taking a wrist into his warm palms and working the wet material over his skin until the teens arm was folded inside the chest of his hoodie. Working the other wrist just as gently the officer carefully pulled the large hoodie over his head and dropped it onto the floor mat in the back seat. Stiles made a small sound of protest, hating how he was getting the guys car soaked. “It’s okay,” Derek soothed.

The officers eyes didn’t miss the dark and ugly bruises trailing up and down the boys arms. He bit his lip, a weak attempt to hold his wolf back because he wasn’t stupid and he knew where marks like that really came from. He knew the lies, heard them a million times from abused lovers who were covering for their partner in fear of the repercussions if they were to utter a word about the violence that they lived through. Domestic Violence, child abuse, whatever you wanted to call it all had the same ugly cover to the same horrible story book. It pained him to see that a student in his little sisters and brothers class was suffering so, but he’d be damned if there was something that he couldn’t do. He’d bring it to his chief’s attention in the morning. Surely a relative would know something about who could be causing the teen such pain and if not, if it was in fact Stiles’ uncle then possibly John could take the teen in, look after his nephew until he turned eighteen.

His fingers carefully pulled back the white tee that clung to his body. His own stomach rolled at the sunken in feeling of the boy’s stomach caving in on itself where a healthy dose of fat and muscle should be. His sweatpants were so heavy on his narrow hips that they started sagging to show the sharp edges of his iliac crests. Clenching his jaw, he pulled the tee off and marveled at the depressed skin around his ribs. He could count each of them in the dim light of his car without a problem, could trace his skeletal structure and point out certain notches like he could with a text book.

“Don’t look,” Stiles whispered. Turning his head away he flinched when the older man’s hands came down to rub lightly on his arms with the towel. His tee was discarded into the back with his hoodie.

Derek’s mouth twitched, crooking over to the side as he worked to steadily dry the teen off in his front seat. Once he was satisfied that Stiles was dry, his skin and hair an acceptable state, he reached back into his gym bag to pull out an undershirt. He handed it to the teen who quickly put it on along with the offered black hoodie that was three size too big for his small frame. “I need you to slip your shoes, socks and—“Derek gestured awkwardly to the teens soaked sweats. He wasn’t worried about his seat that was positively soaking up the excess water from the boy’s body, but fearful of what he would see hidden under the fabric.

Domestic Violence, Child Abuse and the thought of Sexual Assault made his stomach knot painfully. He’d seen the marks and obvious signs of neglect, the unholy trinity would be complete if someone had unjustly touched Stiles and taken something so pure and innocent from the teen. Stiles blushed as he expected he would, and slowly inched his sweats off after having kicked his shoes and socks off in the foot-well. He placed his sweats in the back over his other discarded items and made a notion for Derek to turn his head so he could pull his boxers off. A part of Derek had to know the extent of the damages to the boy and another part wanted to remain blissfully ignorant. He turned and Stiles quickly dressed.

Not bothering to wait for Stiles to finish slipping his sweats on, Derek put his Camero into drive and headed down the street in the opposite direction of the teens house. He’d be damned if he’d take him back to that house with the knowledge that someone was there harming him. Stiles didn’t say a word the entire drive, remaining silent and starring far out into the distance looking at the darkness that surrounded the car looking at nothing and everything with a glassy look in his eyes. Pulling into his attached garage, Derek got out and quickly moved around to help Stiles out of the front seat and into the house.

The teen stumbled over his own two feet, tripping through the door and falling into the kitchen island as they passed. The hard stone counter tops were cool to the touch. Derek righted him before steering him to the large couch and laying the feverish teen down. “Rest,” he whispered. Grabbing a few throw pillows to cradle the teens head and a couple blankets from the hall closet he draped them over the teens shivering body and moved into the kitchen with the comforting image of Stiles eyes struggling to stay awake. It wouldn’t be long before he fell asleep and as Derek pulled his cell phone out to make a call, the soothing sound of the boys even breathing pacified his wolf. Stiles was asleep and safe.

~*~*~

_“I can’t tell if it’s a concussion without a proper CAT-Scan.”_

_“I’m going to—“_

_“You’ll what? Lose your job? You can’t help that boy behind bars, and your pack needs you.”_

_“He doesn’t smell right, he—“_

_“The best thing right now is to help him the best way we can. He does have a fever, but he needs to eat when he wakes. Have him take this and he needs to rest.”_

~*~*~

_“He still hasn’t woken up, are you sure he’s okay?”_

_“I’m so happy you became a cop.”_

_“Hey!”_

_“Shh!!!”_

~*~*~

_“Cora and Isaac said they won.”_

_“Don’t tell them about this, not yet.”_

_“Well it’s only Saturday morning, they won’t be back till tomorrow night.”_

~*~*~

_“I’m back, and got some supplies.”_

_“What is all this junk?”_

_“Well Super Trooper, this is called fluid and you give it to dehydrated—“_

_“Alright Para-God, do your hero thing. I’m going to finish this soup. Hopefully he wakes up soon.”_

_“The fluids should bring him out of it, also help drop that fever. If not, we’ll have to take him in.”_

_“Then let’s hope it works.”_

~*~*~

_“Hey Chief, it’s Derek. No everything’s okay and I’ll be in tonight, no worries. But I was wondering if I could come in early and talk to you about something? Great, I’ll be there around six.”_

~*~*~

Stiles slowly opened his eyes and winced. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton, his tongue and throat dried out like a sponge and his eyes were sore from sleeping so long. He was warm, sticky from sweat and just wanted a cold glass of water. But getting up to get that glass required the teen to move from the comfortable spot on his bed—“Shit!” Bolting upright his vision swam making him wished he’d just stayed down. Falling forward into a pair of arms, the teen worked on calming his breathing. It was dark out last he remembered but the light peeking through meant it was either morning or later in the afternoon the following day and Mike was—“I have to—“

“Stiles, you need to calm down.” Struggling against the person holding him on the couch, the teen submitted with an exhausted whimper and finally looked up at the man holding him back. He instantly recognized Derek and frowned at the realization that he slept over at his house. “See, nothing’s going to happen to you here.” He ran his fingers through the teen’s hair, gently guiding his head back down to the pillow. “You’ve been asleep with a high fever for the last sixteen hours, you need to rest Stiles. Laura will be back in a moment with some medication for you to take. Just relax until he she gets back and try not to fuss with that.”

Following the officers finger down to his hand, Stiles cringed at the heavy feeling of the needle in his vein pumping his body full of fluids to combat the fever. Resisting the urge to fuss with it, he accepted the cold water bottle Derek pressed into his hands. “Thanks,” he muttered while settled back against the couch and taking a long pull off the neck.

Derek nodded and moved away only to return with a warm bowl of what appeared to be homemade chicken noodle soup. The bowl was warm to the touch and smelled heavenly. “Eat what you can, and try to finish that bottle. You need your strength.”

He was in so much trouble when he got home. He could only image how red Mike’s face must have been when he got home to find Stiles missing and the house locked up. His stomach turned at the thought of the impending pain that was coming his way but Derek’s soup tasted amazing and seemed to dissipate any ill thoughts of his uncle with each bite. Before he knew it, the bowl was gone and another was being placed before him to eat. Discount deli be damned, this tasted amazing and he rather eat this than risk a bacterial disease. Sitting back with the second bowl polished off, only a little bit of the broth lay at the bottom of the bowl, Stiles eyes tracked Derek as he removed the bowl and set it in the kitchen. The _clink_ of the bowl sitting in the seat pushed the teen to his feet.

“I can do the—“

“You can lay back down.” Derek instructed as he moved back to the teen to guide his body down onto the couch. Rearranging his bedding, Derek handed him the remote and moved back into the kitchen to answer his ringing phone. “Yeah, I’ll get the door. Hang on one sec, sis.”

Stiles curious eyes watched Derek open a door down the hall off the kitchen. The officer leaned around the frame and the familiar sound of the garage door opening to let someone in. A few moments later a couple of bags were being placed in his hands and a damp looking Laura emerged into the kitchen following her brother to set the remaining few bags down. “I got everything, and I did get tonight off so we’re good on that front. They let the day shift girl pick up the extra shift this week.”

“Did you buy the whole damn store?”

“I wasn’t sure what would fit, plus—oh, you’re awake!” Fussing with her coat as she moved through the kitchen, she laid the material on the back of the breakfast table chair and moved to sit on the couch next to Stiles. “How you feeling?”

Stiles flinched as her hand came out towards him, his body recoiling in to protect itself for a split second before he remembered that Mike was nowhere in sight. Relaxing, the back of her hand came to rest on his forehead. “I’m fine,” he lied.

“Still have that fever though. Did you eat something yet?”

Stiles nodded.

“He ate two bowls.” Derek provided in Stiles absent admission.

“Wonderful!” Her expression turned clinical as her eyes roamed over Stiles body hidden under the blankets. “Sweetie, I need to check a few things. You’ve got some serious bruises and I just want to make sure you don’t have any fractures. Derek said you fell down some stairs?”

Stiles shook his head _no_ before nodding a _yes_ , faintly remembering the weak excuse he gave for falling down the stairs. Swallowing, he watched her fearfully as her hands came out towards his head to gently feel along his scalp. Her touch felt amazing, fingers light rubbing over tender muscles as she worked her way down around the curve of his skull down his neck. Her fingers kneaded into his spin softly, feeling his vertebrae and move out to his shoulders where he winced when her fingers brushed over his notches and clavicles. She hummed to herself and continued down to feel along his ribs where he hissed in discomfort.

Over her shoulder, Stiles had a clear view of Derek who was leaning against the fireplace with a dark look haunting his features. Stiles could have sworn he heard Derek _growling_ from the other side of the room, but then again there was a noticeable rumble in Laura’s chest as well. Her hands palpated along his abdomen before moving out to feel along his extremities. Sitting back, seemingly satisfied with her work, she nodded to Derek and stood. “Derek, you need to get ready for work. It’s almost six.”

“Right,” he muttered.

Feeling his welcome had been over stayed, Stiles moved to get up only to be guided back down once again by Derek’s gentle hands. “You stay here with Laura, Stiles. She’s qualified to watch out for you.” He said with a playful smile and wink from his left eyes. Stiles brow furrowed in confusion but he lay back against the comfortable couch regardless. He closed his eyes and in the back he could hear the two of them talking in hushed whispers. He could already feel himself slipping, his stomach full and his body satisfied. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep once again.

~*~*~

“Absolutely not!” John cried in outrage. The usually laid back man abruptly stood from his office chair and slammed his clenched fist on the hard surface of his desk. “I have a missing child report on this kid, and you’re telling me he’s been at your house this whole time?”

“John—“

“Officer, stand down!”

Derek swallowed back an exasperated sigh. “John, he’s your family, please just listen to me.” Derek watched the other man’s eyes flash cerulean blue before he huffed and settled back in his office chair with enough force to make the moving parts creak under his weight.

“Derek, what’s going on?”

“I’m almost certain your brother is abusing your nephew. God, there are not words to describe how skinny he is and the bruises covering his body are in various stages of the healing process. Some are dark and ugly while others, a lot around his wrists, are yellowing.”

“You’re sure he’s not getting roughed up at school?” The chief of police bit into his bottom lip, hating the situation more and more as his best officer was telling him the classic signs of violence against a nephew he never even knew he had. The boy wasn’t Mike’s kid which left him wondering how this boy— _Stiles—_ was even related to him. Though the picture of the sleeping teen Derek had pulled up on his phone sure looked like— _No!_

“Isaac and Cora wouldn’t let that happen. You know their group is tight.”

John nodded and hummed to himself, his gaze still set on the familiar face of the teen on his officer’s phone. Derek’s brother and sister ran with one of the best crowds in Beacon Hills; high academic standing (usually, sans one), community and school activity involvement, and overall just good kids. John sighed sadly and forced himself to hand over the phone, trying to hold the dark thoughts in the back of his mind at bay. “Bring him in tomorrow, we’ll see if we can get him to talk to us. I’ll have a child representative here for the questioning but one of our detectives will do the questioning. You’re already too close to this as it is. What were you thinking taking him home with you?”

Derek had to think for a moment. He’d dealt with these things before on the job but never before has one shaken him so that he’d be willing to take the victim home and share his home with them. Stiles was… different. “He smells off.” John threw his officer a dirty look. “No, it’s… I’m not sure how to explain it. He smells like he’s sick, but there’s just something else…”

“Alright, hit the streets and bring him in tomorrow. It’s obvious that there’s abuse of some kind going on here, so we’ll look into it but don’t go looking for Mike. If we do this, we do this right Derek.” John growled and his eyes flashed. Derek’s wolf whined in protest, but he promised he wouldn’t go looking for the fire-medic before slipping out and heading to his cruiser.

Once John was positive he was alone in his office, his hands deftly reached into a side drawer to pull free an aged file, covered in dust and withered at the edges from other files brushing over the edges. Opening up the missing person’s file, his eyes zeroed in on the face of the little boy on the photo ID. It was his first grade photo and behind it was a family photo of himself, his wife and their seven year old son. It was taken at the lake, their last family photo before horror ripped his family apart. He came home to find his wife bloodied and barely alive on the floor in the basement and their son missing. He was a deputy sheriff at the time and the department was overrun for their small man power and such a large area to cover over the county that was comprised of over 30 small cities, townships and villages. The sheriff department brushed the missing child’s case aside after two months and stopped looking which prompted a community outcry. The next election brought about the Beacon Hills Police Department and the mayor appointed John chief. Over the years the department has thrived and solved more cases than ever before, but this was just one of those cases that the officer feared would never get solved.

His son was gone, missing for well over ten years and his wife lay comatose in a hospital for the same time duration. What Derek was asking, asking him to open his home to family he didn’t even know he had was hard because how could he keep his nephew safe when he failed his own family? A knock at the door had him scrambling to put the folder away before alerting the person on the other side to come in.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my! That was long! I re did this chapter so many times and I'm still not thrilled with it, but I feel like I should post at least something. As you all can clearly see, I'm not as mean as I started out being (I felt bad abusing Stiles like that). And I get that pretty much everyone is confused as hell with the ending of the chapter, but I promise as the story progresses it'll all become incredibly clear with time. Just bare with me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, I'm a terrible person for not updating sooner than this. I was recently involved in an auto accident and subsequently found myself with not one, but two broke wrists. Yeah, three fractures in total really sucks because I can't do much of anything. As you can see, I'm starting to feel better because I cranked this out, though I will admit that I'm not in love with and I kinda lost my inspiration a little bit. Hopefully it comes back with a mighty vengeance because I do like this story enough to finish it. Again, no beta and if someone would like to, feel free to message me or something because I feel like - this chapter in particular - needs some serious editing.

Derek sat with his arms sourly crossed in front of his chest at his desk, seemingly pissed off at all the rumors floating about the station that bleak Sunday morning. Laura was perched on the edge of his desk flipping through one of the 5.11 Magazines he had stashed in a drawer and if the situation they were in didn’t piss him off into the next decade then the loose mouth gossipers—read, his fellow officers—whispering to each other about what could be up with their chief, Stiles and Derek or their derogatory comments they were making about his sister absolutely did. Derek didn’t understand how Laura could shrug off the comments, _she can haul my fire hose any day_ , but then again she probably was used to it.

It’s her own damn fault for becoming a fire-medic after all…

Laura reached over and smacked her brother upside the head, seemingly able to decipher his calculative scowl for the career sneer it was. “Stop pouting, Derek.” She sighed dramatically while flipping a page, ignoring his growling protest. She made an interesting sound and plucked a pen out her brothers mouth, one he had been chewing to calm his anxiety since they arrived to the station that afternoon, to star something on the page. Derek growled in protest and snatched back his pen. Looking at the chewed tip for a second, he tossed it into the trash with a huff. “Conflict of interest, you knew you or John couldn’t interview him—quit that!” Smacking her brother playfully over the head with the magazine rolled up like an old newspaper to a bag dog, she shook her head at his persistent growling. “Manners, dear brother,” she shook her head and went back to her magazine.

Sometimes Derek couldn’t stand his twin sister. They were ten minutes apart, Laura being the oldest of the Hale litter, and aside from their looks they were complete opposites. Laura was more laid back and had a whimsical aura about her that Derek secretly envied where as he was more by the books, and had a habit of needing to control things in his life. Maybe that was how she was so able to shrug off the comments. But even though they were polar opposites, the two alpha’s had a tether to each other that was stronger than any bond that their pack held and as much as Derek loved to complain about his sister, he loved her dearly.

_It’s a twin thing,_ his mother used to say sweetly.

Twin or not, it didn’t give her the right to smack him over the head. “Can you not look like a French whore?” Dressed in her ratty old jeans and a hoodie, Derek knew she didn’t look like a whore—the person in cell 8 he passed this morning however did—but did she seriously have to sit up there preening? It was bad enough the guys were still talking about what they’d like to do to her, but he’d rather not be around to hear it or let alone see his sister dangling herself in front of them like a worm on a hook to a hungry fish. Most of the guys he worked with were dogs, and Derek would never allow either of his sisters to date any of them.

Laura merely raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Oh dear brother, don’t get your balls in a bunch because Detective McCall is interviewing Stiles. And ignore them, it’s not likely I’ll take a donut biter out anytime soon—“

“Laura!” Derek steeled his actions, controlling his anger from reaching out to slap his sister for the comment. It wouldn’t hurt her, but the act of Derek smacking his sister inside the station in front of the entire bullpen of desks filled with officers was not something he wanted to have happen.

“You’ll get over it.” She smiled sweetly.

The door to the interview room opened putting the twins on edge instantly, their bodies switching to the playful sibling banter to an air of seriousness. The first to exit the room was Detective McCall, his face was pale, hands were trembling with unseen rage and he made a beeline towards their chief’s office. His knuckles rapped lightly on the wooden door before his body disappeared into John’s office. The next to exit the interview room was the Child’s Advocate, a sweet woman in her early thirties who appeared to be four months pregnant, who guided Stiles out and over towards Derek’s desk. She gave them a sad smile and rubbed Stiles on his back. “Thank you officer, children’s services will take it from here.”

“What?” It shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did, but how could this woman think she was just going to place an abused teen into a foster home, unless… “He’s not going back there!”

“Derek!” Restraining her brother, Laura grabbed his wrists and turned to look at the woman, pleading her to elaborate.

“Of course not, we’re going to place him into a foster home until—“

“He will stay with me.” Everyone’s heads snapped up to look into the flushed face of John Stilinski. “He’s my nephew after all; I can’t let him get lost in the system.” The woman nodded approvingly and turned to walk into John’s office to sort out some paperwork.

“It’s better than you getting shuffled into a foster home, Stiles.” Laura wrapped the teen into a hug, her arms settling around his shoulders and brining the quiet boy’s head to rest against her shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.” She whispered sadly against his head, remembering the long conversation the three of them had over the breakfast table that morning, desperately trying to convince the teen to go and talk to the police. Stiles barely ate anything, and the little he did eat of the homemade waffles he threw up just outside the station. “Your Uncle John is a really nice man, sweetie.”

Laura passed Stiles to Derek who welcomed him with open arms. The teen fit perfectly against his chest, head buried against his neck and arms folded neatly between their two bodies. Laura rubbed his back for a moment before dismissing herself to get them something to drink. Derek’s eyes trailed his sisters back into the crew room down the hall, all the while hating the comments the other officers were tossing around about her curvy figure. It was easier to dismiss them now, now that he had Stiles in his arms, his frantic breathing and erratic heartbeat pulling his wolf to the surface forcing his senses to focus on the teen rather than his sister. “You know, Laura is right.”

Stiles pulled back a little and Derek noted the faint tear tracks trailing down his cheeks. Reaching up to wipe them away with his thumbs, the officer smiled at the teen. Stiles looked to be at an inner struggle with himself, but Derek could understand his apprehension about having to stay with someone he doesn’t even know. It’s not like he knew Derek all that well either, but he never seemed this nervous around him before. “Chief Stilinski seems nice,” he mumbled while keeping his eyes downcast.

“Stiles,” Derek prompted. “Your Uncle John will keep you safe from Mike; he can’t hurt you anymore. If you want, you’re more than welcome to come over after school to do your homework or any time for any reason. You’re not alone in this. I’m sure my parents would love to have you over again, or you could even visit Laura.” Petting the side of his head, Derek smiled to himself at the subtle push of the teen’s head into the palm of his hand. Stiles was beginning to trust the process. “I’ll be here for you.”

“Thanks Derek,” he whispered so softly that if the officer didn’t have his wolfy senses he wouldn’t have heard it. The teen ducked his head in embarrassment, tucking his chin to his chest and reaching up to lightly scratch on the bridge of his nose.

“No problem, kiddo.”

~*~*~

It was John’s idea to go out for dinner, just the two of them. It was quickly decided after they finally got to his house that the Chief of Police didn’t keep a well stocked kitchen, other than a jar of mayonnaise, an empty bag of Tyson chicken nuggets in the freezer, a rotten green pepper that looked something like a penicillin project, and an up-opened sleeve of double stuffed Oreo’s. Stiles smiled sheepishly at his Uncle, shrugging his shoulder that he wasn’t all that hungry and could just go to bed so they wouldn’t have to bother with the mundane task of dinner. John waved him off while grabbing his keys and heading back out to his truck parked in the driveway.

Stiles carefully followed and buckled up in the front seat. They ended up at a small diner, a simple mom and pop local favorite that apparently had been established well over a hundred years ago, and as soon as they sat down they were greeted by a friendly waitress who smiled down at John and asked if “his usual” would be alright for the evening. She then turned her attention to the teen fidgeting across from him and her smile grew tenfold. “Well who is this?”

“Lisa, this is Stiles. He’s going to be staying with us for a while.”

“We’ll aren’t you precious! What would you like to eat, baby?” Stiles bit his lip and glanced at the menu once again, hating how his stomach twisted at the thought of having to eat a meal when he wasn’t hungry for at all.

“A salad will be fine, ma’am.” The teen bit his bottom lip as he caught John’s exasperated look from across the table. Swallowing thickly as John’s jaw visibly clenched, undoubtedly grinding his teeth in frustration, he feared what was about to happen. His Uncle Mike did the same thing when he was upset with the boy. _Oh God, please no… Not him too…_

Lisa and John shared a look over Stiles head. “Stiles, you need to eat buddy. Remember what the ER doc said?” He knew what the doc said, had it memorized in his head that if he didn’t start gaining weight that his body could start shutting down, his insides digesting more calories than he had to offer and then eating away at vital parts. “How about a cheeseburger and some fries?” It wasn’t healthy, but the poor teens body needed some form of sustenance if he wanted a fighting chance at survival.

Besides, everyone loves a good cheeseburger.

The teen winced at the thought of eating all that food. Lydia and his friends at school had already expanded his stomach already by helping him with his lunches but judging by the order sizes he’d seen walking by from the other servers, he knew he’d be sick if he tired to eat everything and waste wasn’t something Mike had allowed him to partake in. “Just the cheeseburger, please.”

John shook his head. He added the fries back onto the order with a smile.

Lisa smiled brightly as her pen scribbled over her pad. Winking at his Uncle John, Lisa clicked her pen closed on her pad of paper and walked away with a promise to return momentarily with their drinks. The teen watched as she disappeared behind the bar to talk to a flirty bartender and point in their direction making the teen flush when he realized that the finger they were pointing his way was directed solely at him. “Don’t mind the staff here,” John smoothly responded as he leaned back to fish his cell phone out of his waist clip when it chirped, alerting the man to an e-mail. “It’s just a bunch of gossipy girls with nothing better to do. Our waitress is the daughter of the owners and the bar tender is their son’s fiancé.” Replying quickly to a text message that had also come in, the chief slipped his phone back into the clip and leaned forward on the table to grab at the newly set down beer.  

“Thank you,” Stiles whispered as Lisa walked away with a sassy smile on her face. Reaching out, he took his water and sucked a few small sips from the straw. “You know the family well?”

John shrugged and set his glass back onto the custom napkin coaster. “Beacon Hills is a small town. Their dad and I used to go to school together and he’s had a few run-ins with the department.” The unspoken domestic violence and OVI were kept from the teen, but from the look on the officers face Stiles had a feeling of what those unnamed charges were. “He’s turned his life around since the birth of his granddaughter.”

Stiles smiled and sipped on his water a little more, his lips curling around the plastic straw in his mouth. “That’s good,” he whispered softly. The straw fell from his lips and swirled in his glass.

John hummed in reply. “That it is. I just got a text from one of my officers, they have your school bag and possessions at the station. What do you say after dinner we go pick them up before we head home?”

“That would be great, I have a bunch of homework I need to do tonight.”

“Hey, take tomorrow off. One more day won’t hurt and you can use it to catch up and orient yourself with the house. Those med’s the hospital gave you should start working soon, and if you’re anything like my wife, you’ll be out of commission in the next hour or so.” John laughed to himself, the memory of his wife on pain killers after she broke her arm jet skiing on their honey moon lulled the man at ease placing a soft smile on his face that lit up his aged eyes. Stiles wondered for a moment if his two uncles were actually related because so far the differences between his Uncle Mike and his Uncle John were astronomical that it made him dizzy trying to calculate all the ways that they were actually different.

Lisa came back, laying down their plates before them and topping off Stiles water glass with a chipper laugh. Half way through their meal, John glanced up towards his nephew and smiled once again. Stiles eyes were drooping heavily and his movements were sluggish. His coordination was impaired, making the teen miss reaching for his water glass three times. Taking pity on the teen, John eased his hand out towards the glass and waited until the boy’s fingers hand enough grip around the circumference to pull his hand back to his own plate. He took a bite and reached back across the table to help the teen set the glass down on the table.      

“How about we get a couple of boxes and take this home?” John signaled Lisa over and asked for a few boxes along with their bill. When she came back, he handed over his credit card and started putting their meals into the two boxes. He ignored Stiles moan of protest, moving the teen’s hands back to his own person while he reached for the brunette’s plates. John was lucky to get the boy into his truck let alone up to his new room and into a warm pair of sleep pants Laura had purchased and Derek’s hoodie he’d loaned to Stiles earlier in the day to help the teen stay warm. Fighting the teen into bed, a fond smile lifted his face making the old wolf pause as he exited out of the room. He hadn’t smiled this much since his son disappeared and his wife was hospitalized.

He never thought he could ever smile again.

~*~*~

He heard a warm voice calling out his name, drawing his conscious from the most amazing sleep he’s had in forever into the waking world. He was warm, curled up comfortably in the center of an equally comfortable mattress that catered to the curve of his body almost perfectly, and a part of him dared to fall back asleep. The voice went away for a long while, the quiet overlaying his conscious for an undetermined amount of time until another voice called out for his attention accompanied by a warm hand rubbing circles on his back.

“Stiles,” the low tenor called out again. As much as he didn’t want to open his eyes the rubbing on his back made him curious to see who owned that amazing hand rubbing warmly up and down his spine. “Hey, there Stiles.” Blinking sleepily he automatically had a feeling of safety wash through his body when he caught the fuzzy outline of the man sitting on the edge of the bed. He was safe.

“Derek,” he moaned loudly, albeit a bit embarrassingly. Stretching like a lazy cat, he tried to work his mouth around the dryness and hoped that the saturation would wake his brain up from the induced slumber caused by the medications the doctors gave him.

“You’re exhausted, but if you don’t wake up you’ll sleep through the whole day.” Derek’s gentle hand pushed Stiles’ shoulder so the teen could lie on his back rather than curled up in a tiny ball. The movement caused his joints to pop painfully.

His eyes felt like they were attached to a set of lead weights, heavier than they had ever felt and drooping without pause to close peacefully together. “What time is it?”

“About a quarter passed two, John said you’ve been asleep since around six o’clock last night.”

Blinking awake, Stiles ran a hand down his face a few times rubbing out the sleepy, numb tingling in an attempt to circulate the blood. He’d never felt this rested before and still had a bone deep exhaustion. If he thought there was a weight attached to his eye lids, there was a gravitational force akin to godly grounding his body against the mattress. It was almost painful for him to move his body, but the warm weight of Derek’s slowly circling hand over his shoulder and chest was enough to draw him from the pits of his exhaustion. “I’ve never slept that long before.”

“It’s probably because you’ve never taken muscle relaxers before either.” Derek’s light chuckle and easy smile was infectious, curling the corners of the brunette’s mouth up without much thought. “What do you say we get you something to eat and get you out of bed?”  

Accepting the officer’s hand, the two worked to get Stiles’ feet under him. The first few attempts were miserable, Stiles’ natural coordination—or lack thereof—proved to be their downfall, coupled with the Jell-O knees made the task nearly impossible. The fourth attempt proved nearly successful, landing the wolf with an armful of awkward teenage limbs, but Stiles was upright with his feet—somewhat—under him and leaning heavily on the officer to keep himself upright. This was a start…

“Sorry,” he grunted while feebly trying to support his own weight by locking his joints in his legs. His plan wasn’t working out as well as he’d hoped. Good thing Derek had great upper body strength, otherwise Stiles would be a pile on the floor.

“It’s okay, just try to stand.” The older man’s voice never wavered under the strain of the teen’s weight in his arms. If the teen’s eyes happened to stray and fixate on the slightly bulging muscles of Derek’s biceps, he refused to draw attention to it by promptly adverting his gaze up to Derek’s face.

“I’m trying,” he grumbled. It felt like hours, but was really only a few minutes, before Stiles could hold himself up without having to rely on the sturdy weight of Derek’s warm body to remain upright. Tentatively pulling his hands back to his own person, Stiles cautiously took a step back, promptly stumbling over the air and landing with a slight bounce back on his bed. “Maybe we should just not stand up.”

“I’ll have your uncle call your doctor to try and get you a dose that isn’t as strong.” Easing the teen so he could sit with his back supported by the headboard, Derek moved the soft comforter aside so he could sit on the edge of the bed. Reaching up, the back of his hand rested on the teen’s sweaty forehead. “Still a little feverish,” he mused.

Stiles reached up with his own hand, feeling the moist skin on his forehead and shrugging. “It’s not that bad.”

“You should still rest.” Derek paused, glancing towards the door to the kids room then back to the teen once again. “Would you like to go downstairs and lay on the couch?”

Stiles just blinked stupidly at the older man, recent events of him falling over himself clouding his judgment and depicting slideshows of him tumbling down the stairs, cracking his head against the banister and hemorrhaging out onto the hardwood floors at the bottom. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Well, if you’re not adverse to the idea of me carrying you downstairs—or dragging, whichever you prefer—I can get you down there. I’m sure a little background TV noise and some warm lunch would do you some good. We can also see about getting you a shower.”     

Stiles’ mind got ahead of him once again. Standing under some hot shower water did sound appealing, but as soon as he’d drop the soap bar, he’d lean over to pick it up and then slip, promptly cracking his head on the wall and landing face down so his chest could cover up the drain, allowing the teen to drown. His mouth was working faster than his brain had time to process the mini-horror film in his head and before he knew it, Derek had his arms around the teen again and was effortlessly walking downstairs with the teen cradled against his chest.

He didn’t remember even coming into the house the night before, too inebriated by the drugs in his system to realize that John Stilinski had a wonderful home, even if he was just a temporary bachelor. There were still feminine touches that he could see around the living room, of those being the family pictures of the Chief, his wife and son. Stiles understood why John fell in love with Claudia; she was gorgeous and looked like a generally nice person. Someone Stiles’ wished he could have called mom while growing up.

Derek reached for the remote and turned on the absurdly large television. ESPN popped up with a re-cap session from Sunday’s football games. Apparently the Packers didn’t do so well…

“What are you hungry for?” Stiles shrugged, not sure if he was allowed to have any of the Oreo’s. It may have been nearly 24-hours since he’d fallen asleep, but if Stiles was a betting person he’d bet his uncle hadn’t had time to run to the store. It’s not like he was really hungry to begin with either. “Stiles, you have to eat something.” Draping a fleece throw blanket over the teen, Derek sat down next to him. He made sure to keep a safe distance as to not startle the teen, but he also knew that he needed to stress the importance of the boy eating.

He spent the better part of the afternoon with Derek, who hovered over everything he did like a helicopter and made sure he finished his left-over’s from the night before. It was a challenge finishing the rest of the largest cheeseburger Stiles had ever seen while making a small dent in the order of fries he barely touched the night before. By the time he took his last bite he felt like his stomach might explode. He was beyond the point of sick, his diaphragm pressing painfully against his lungs due to his expanded stomach, and if he had to finish off the last half of his fries he knew he’d throw it all back up.

“I can’t eat anymore,” he slurred. Pushing the box away felt like such a large task, forcing his body to move after slipping back into that _tummy’s full_ sleepy state. He could stretch out with the throw blanket and fall right to sleep on the couch if Derek would move to another chair.

“Good job,” Derek smiled.

Stiles was slowly beginning to love that smile on the man’s face.

The remainder of the afternoon passed by slowly with the two lounging around in the living room watching re-runs of COPS with Derek offering snide comments about some of the officers on the show feeling the need to _show off_ and do things they normally wouldn’t do. The teen was sure the first time was an accident, saying the comment out loud, but the reaction it got from Stiles made him think that the following string of phrases were simply stated to make him laugh.

This, sitting around the living room watching TV with Derek, was easy and something he could easily learn to become accustomed to.  

Stiles had his homework spread out around him, his mind slowly working through the fog of the drugs to complete the assignments in an effort to not get behind in his classes, but when he glanced up at the clock and saw it was after seven o’clock, he groaned loudly knowing that he still had another unit to complete. He was beyond exhausted and just wanted to fall asleep. The large meal in his stomach was only partially digested, only further threatening to throw him into the downward spiraling pit of exhaustion.

“Everything okay?”

Stiles shook his head, burying his face into the material of the large couch. “No,” he moaned grumpily.

Derek frowned. Reaching forward to grab the remote off the coffee table, he hit the volume button to turn the TV down and turned to fully look at the teen. “Anything I can help you with?” Moving from his seat in the recliner, Derek moved around Stiles’ homework so he could sit next to the teen and peer down at the boys calculus homework. “It looks like you’re almost done.”

“I still have chemistry to do.” It was hard, missing so much school and having to catch up so you wouldn’t have to repeat a grade, but all he wanted to do was curl up somewhere warm and sleep. If he could get away with it, he’d say _screw school_ and _screw responsibilities_ if it only got him to the bed upstairs. Stiles was just so tired that he didn’t really care at the moment.  

“Just talk to your teachers, they should be able to work something out with you.” What didn’t he understand? He was tired, he didn’t want to do anymore homework, he just wanted to go to bed! A part of his brain was telling him how childish this was, how a proper person wouldn’t be concerned with such frivolities and just _buck up and do it_.

_“You’re so weak and pathetic!”_

The ball of anger that had been living dormant inside his chest for the last few years was now bubbling under his surface, pushing at his conscious and threatening to breech. Taking a few calming breaths in, he shook his head to rid his mind of the hurtful phrases his uncle used to tell him. He hated how the man would remind him every day that he was so _stupid_ and _worthless,_ and that he should be grateful someone like him would even take a brat like Stiles in.  

_“Waste of space.”_

“No!” Pushing away his books and papers, Stiles found the strength to stand up and glare at the offending objects laying haphazardly on the floor, their spines bent in wrong directions and creases folding the sheets in odd angles. “No, I have to get it done! I can do this!”  

Derek stood up to steady the teen whose legs were shaking under the force of his own weight, threatening to throw him to the ground in a matter of moments. “Just take it easy—“

Pushing himself away, Stiles stumbled back and landed with a hard crack against the oak floors. He lay stunned for a moment, just starring blearily up at the ceiling trying to hold everything inside of him that was threatening to come out in an emotional rage. It wasn’t right to lash out at Derek, he didn’t do anything wrong and was only trying to help, but Stiles felt like he was on the verge of a breakdown, his insides screaming to lash out and just… he wanted to hit something. He wanted to hit something so hard and so many times that if he were to look at it later he would never be able to discern what it originally was.

Rolling over to press his face into the wood flooring, Stiles balled his fists and unleashed his rage in a single, hard punch against the hard wood surface. He cried out, the searing pain in his hand lighting his nerves on fire, but he didn’t care and threw his left fist into the ground with a strangled cry. If he could, he’d reach into the board and strangle whatever lay beneath.  

He could feel Derek’s hands on him, trying to keep his arms from throwing another blow into the floor that was stained red now. He’d split open his knuckles and no doubt broken a knuckle or two. He was so fucking fragile, he’d be lucky to not have any broken ones at all but the way his skin had already started to discolor under the layer of blood he knew it was a far hope.

“Stop it, Stiles!” Derek managed to wrangle his hands with his own, securing them against the boys chest and drawing his body into the curve of his own. Just being held there, Stiles could feel himself vibrating with the need to lash out, to let out his extra energy that had slowly been fizzing under the surface.

“Let me go!” Kicking his legs out, trying to throw the officer off, the teen twisted his torso so the darker haired man had to scramble to hold onto his squirming body. He ended up face down, growling against the floor, with Derek laying heavily on top of his lithe body holding frantically onto his wrists. “Derek, just let me go!”

“No, Stiles,” Derek growled back in a voice much deeper than his usual tone. He hated losing his control but at the moment, he had to do something to keep the boy from hurting himself further. The alphas deep rumble seemed to calm the hysterical teen, his body deflating and the anger dissipating in a single sigh that left him exhausted and defeated.  Rubbing his nose against the back of the boys neck for a moment, Derek leaned up to whisper into his ear. “I’ll never let you go.”

How they got up from the floor and made it to the couch was a blur to the teen, but he found himself curled against the man’s side, cradling his hands against his chest and willing away the pain. Tears were flowing freely down his face, leaving salty tracks in their wake where others started to fall. He could deal with the sting in his hands, it was nothing he wasn’t used to, but the emotional vulnerability he felt when around the older man left him feeling unsettled.

Derek was a steady presence by his side the rest of the night. The TV was in the background, playing some random Repo show and his homework lay in a bloodied mess on the floor, scattered about further by their scuffle. One of his books looked damaged beyond repair and a few pages were ripped out of another. But what he noticed the most of the stagnant stench of a coppery tang permeating the air, making him hot and nauseous.

“Derek?” The officer tightened his arms around the teen, drawing him closer while silently prompting him to continue. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay to feel like this. You’re allowed to be upset,” he said softly.

“Thank you.” Stiles whispered back even softer, his voice trailing off into nothing. Laying his head fully against the man’s chest, Stiles felt his eyes droop heavily and before he could stop himself he’d fallen asleep, taken by the blissful darkness and finally allowed to rest once again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, poor Stiles! I really feel bad for the kid in here and kinda hate myself for making him all emotional. I'm not thrilled with how this chapter turned out, but I was tired of just not updating. It's been over two months... again, sorry about that. 
> 
> To the 27 amazing people who reviewed the last chapter I would like to hug each and every one of you because you all made my day. I love reading your comments, so please, feel free to leave a message telling me what you think. I'll do my best to update again, but no promises about a quick update.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this chapter kind of really got away from me and was close to fifteen pages before I realized it. I decided to make it a two part section, so hopefully the second part will be out soon. I just gotta finish a few things up. 
> 
> Also, I'll do my best with updates, but classes are coming to a close and naturally I have a million term papers to write. All of which have been taking my time away from me. Grumble... December! Please get here!

The worst part about going back to school after so long was the reactions of the other students. It wasn’t so much his friends he was worried about, they seemed pretty chill with everything concerning him so far, but the looks he’d gotten as he walked down the halls the rest of the week were unnerving and for a moment or two Stiles swore every person looking at him just _knew_ what happened. He’d stopped in the boy’s bathroom a few times, rushing to the mirrors to rub angrily at his forehead to make sure no one had Sharpied how much of a freak he was on his skin. Even if they weren’t sure as to what really happened, everyone had their own theories because afterschool either his Uncle John would pick him up in his truck or patrol vehicle, or one of the Hales would pick him up. He wasn’t riding his hand-me-down bike anymore and that was something that most of the student body noticed.

A few teachers may have picked up on his attitude this week, and for his benefit seemed to leave him alone in their classes. There was no doubt that there was a huge file on him now in the school office that all the teachers had nosed through, learning all the dirty secrets about the freak child they had in their classes. None of the teachers even batted an eye when a call came through on the classroom phones to have Stiles sent to the guidance office three times that week to speak with one of the councilors. He knew they probably wouldn’t, but it was a dark fear of his that some of the teachers would divulge with their classes about what was actually inside his school folder. He was most concerned with Mr. Harris as the Chemistry teacher seemed to perpetually hate all his students, regardless if they were competent and did all their work. It was only a matter of time until all his secrets were released to the student body.

“Jesus, Lydia!” Jumping ten feet in the air, Stiles hung off his locker door and starred at the strawberry blonde while clutching his chest. She had an innocent smile on her face, something that she used with Jackson a lot when she was about to get her way. It was making Stiles nervous. “I need to get you a bell or something.”

“Buy me a silver one so I can wear it with my grey sweater on Monday.” She winked at him and turned to pull a few things out of her locker to head home for the night.

Stiles chuckled. Rearranging his book bag so all his homework fit, he glanced up to see Lydia curling her fingers in a wave to someone down the hall. She had that certain smile on her face that he didn’t even need to turn to know who she was waving at because there was only one person in the world who got that smile.

God, he was a lucky guy.

“Hi babe,” he kissed her softly on the mouth while walking by. “You coming to practice tonight?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Naturally, I have to make sure you’re good and ready for the game tomorrow.”

“You do know that coach doesn’t push us hard before a game?” Stiles pretended to be busy with something in his locker so he didn’t have to watch Jackson crowd Lydia against the lockers and rub his nose over the bony part of the underside of her jaw. It was weird, yes, but Stiles wasn’t about to state that fact given that it wasn’t his place to say. “But you can push me all you want later.” Some people just liked different things.  

Flushing when their mouths touched again making a loud smacking noise, Stiles fought to keep his eyes trained down to his hands inside his locker, not daring to glance up and see them clutch the other, to see Lydia sigh wantonly with her mouth hanging slack-jawed or Jackson growl passively when their bodies pressed tightly together. A teacher who happened to walk by broke them apart, commenting rudely about the possibility of teen pregnancy and how a child born to the two students would have a doomed life from the start. If Stiles had been looking, he would have believed his ears when he heard Jackson growl at the teacher walking down the hall, but he refused to think that someone like Jackson would exhibit any form of inhuman behavior. He was a cool kid and cool kids didn’t growl at people.

Or at least, Stiles has never heard any of his friends growl like that.

He considered his new found friends cool.

Did that make him part of the _cool kids crowd_?

“Stiles, you should come and keep Lydia company at practice tonight.” Jackson placed one final kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek before turning to twist his combination and pop open his locker door with a sense of finesse that Stiles envied.

It wasn’t fair that Jackson was so cool.

_What—?_

Starting with a jerk, his hand flailing to smack painfully against the hard metal of the locker door, Stiles bit his lip to hold in the cry of pain that jolted up his arm. After his emotional breakdown earlier in the week he was surprised to find that he hadn’t broken his hands but had just bruised the bone. It still throbbed when he’d sit in class taking notes, or he’d pick something up that was reasonably heavy, but the bright side of it was that he hadn’t broken his hand. Standing up quick, he blinked back the sudden spots in his eyes from the fast elevation coupled with the pain in his hand and forced a smile to his face, pacifying the curious looks from the couple.  

“You okay?” Lydia bit her bottom lip and eyed her friend wearily. Her gorgeous green eyes flitting to his hand for a split second, making the teen question if he’d actually seen her look at his hand or not.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just thrown off for a moment.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed for his inability to remain cool, calm, or collected. _God, I am such a loser._ He didn’t doubt that his friends thought he was weird and it scared him more than he would admit, knowing that once they realized it themselves they would leave him just like everyone else had. “What?”

“You should come and watch Jax and the others at practice tonight.” Lydia closed her locker; the resounding slam reverberated across the near empty hall. There were a few straggling students mindlessly milling about the halls, none paying any sort of attention to the power couple but whispering between themselves about the _loser_ Jackson and Lydia happened to be talking to. Stiles hung his shoulders as two freshmen girls walked by, giving him a snide sneer, undoubtedly whispering about him under their breath.

Jackson glowered, turning to stare daggers at the two on passing girls. Lydia’s hand clasped over his quickly forming fist, pushing on it slightly to keep his appendage at his side. The two shared a look before glancing back to Stiles whose shoulders had slumped even more, dragging his chin down to the floor as well. “Hey, don’t listen to them.”

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Stiles smiled at the Eleanor Roosevelt quote. Lydia pulled away from Jackson’s side, pushing her boyfriend aside to wrap the skinny teen into her arms and pull him towards the fields. “Besides, I hear watching some hot lacrosse practice is perfect for distracting yourself from dumb little freshmen.” Lydia smirked devilishly when she noticed Stiles face heat up. “Bye babe!” She was about to get her way.

The two seniors waved to Jackson, watching him run down the hall to make it into the locker rooms to change for practice. When he was out of sight, Lydia dragged the struggling teen out to the bleachers on the field where she manhandled him onto one of the upper levels of the benches and sat down. “Lydia, I really should—“

“Sit down, practice should start any moment.” Lydia patted his knee and turned to Allison and Cora, chatting away about an upcoming assignment they both had in an art class. “So ladies, excited for tomorrow’s game?” 

Allison nodded; a happy smile on her face. “I convinced my dad to come out and watch Scott play. They invited him over the other night for dinner to officially meet, and I think they’ll be able to look past his—“everyone paused and glanced at Stiles who wasn’t even paying attention, too busy scanning the fields and the parking lot to notice the girls’ mix up. “—his weirdly shaped jaw.”

Cora burst out laughing.

Lydia snickered, “his jaw is weirdly shaped. What do you think, Stiles?” Poking the teen in the ribs, the three girls frowned at his sudden startle. His body unconsciously curled away, separating themselves and curling into himself, his hands instinctively moving to his vulnerable belly.  

“You alright?” Cora moved up a set of bleachers to curl into his side opposite of Lydia and blocking his wandering eyes from the lot. Smoothing her hands over his arms, the cheerleader frowned at the chill wafting off his skin from under his old hoodie.

“I’m supposed to be getting picked up by my uncle, but I can’t see the parking lot from here.” Biting his lip, he clenched his hands into weak fists, praying that Cora couldn’t feel his body shaking. If she did notice, hopefully she would dismiss it for a constant shiver to the nippy temperatures. He’d hope she would just shrug it off like they all did at the yellowing bruise on his face along with the deep, black bruising on his hands.

“Why not just text him and see if he’s here yet?” Allison prompted, her delicate hands reaching up to pull Stiles frozen fingers away from his stomach and into her warm palms.

“I don’t have a cell phone.” Stiles whispered, shaking his head, knowing just how much trouble he was about to be in if he was making his uncle wait for him in the parking lot while he was over on the field. He missed the affronted look all three girls had come across their faces.

“Here, use mine.” Reaching into her pocket, Cora pulled out her iPhone and handed it over to Stiles who looked at the device like it was alien technology. Did he tell them also that he had no idea how to work something like this and risk their ridicule? _No, defiantly not._

Careful with the expensive piece of tech, he pushed it back into the girl’s hand. Otterbox case or not, he wasn’t about to be the cause of why it suddenly wouldn’t work after his clumsy self dropped it. “I don’t know his number.” Stiles shook his head, his eyes frantically searching the lot for his uncle’s truck or cruiser. He was supposed to meet his uncle outside the student entrance almost ten minutes ago. _I’m in so much trouble…_

“You’ve lived with your uncle how long and you still don’t know his number?” Allison scrunched her face, knowing that she couldn’t recite her relative’s phone numbers off the top of her head, but at least she had a phone book where she could quickly look it up if the need arose, but she at least knew her mom and dad’s number by heart.

“I—“how was he supposed to explain this? He’s been back to school now for three days now and still he hadn’t divulged to his friends that his Uncle Mike now has a felony warrant out for his arrest and that he is now living with Chief Stilinski at his house. How do you slip something like that into a conversation? “I’m not living with my Uncle Mike anymore.”

His voice was so small that Lydia and Allison couldn’t hear over the ruckus on the lacrosse field from the players. Lydia had half a mind to hush them, but kept still at the silent gasp Cora released. “What happened sweetie?” She tried to pull him against her, but his tense muscle lines prevented Cora from pulling him into her side. She gave up and backed up some to give him some needed space with a vicious need to text her brother and find out if he knew what had happened. .

“I have to go.” He stood up quickly and raced down the bleachers. His foot caught on the last one, his old, ratty sneakers catching on a bent lip of the metal, sending the uncoordinated teen sprawling face first onto the grass with a loud _clack_ from the bleachers behind him. A few students who had seen him fall and started laughing instantly, not bothering to get up and help Stiles push himself up. One boy was laughing so hard that when he walked by Stiles prone body, his foot came out and lightly kicked the teen in his side.

“Stiles!” His friends called out, all three girls jumping up to rush and help him up. His hands fluttered around theirs, trying to push them away while insisting that he was _really okay_ and that _they didn’t need to do that_.

An involuntary whine came from Cora as the three watched him run with a slight limp in his step towards the parking lot. They ignored the laughing the best they could, not paying any mind to the students when they continued to laugh at Stiles misfortune. When he was finally far enough away that they couldn’t see him anymore, the three turned around with a ferocious scowl on their gorgeous faces and headed back to their seats.

If Cora happened to punch the guy who kicked Stiles on the way back to her spot on the bleachers, no one said anything and suddenly the laughter changed from Stiles misery to the dumbasses pain. He’d go to school for another week sporting a black eye.

~*~*~

“I’m so sorry!” He found John’s truck instantly, parked by the student doors and idling with the chief sitting in the driver’s seat reading something on his phone with a dark look. Climbing into the front seat, heart thundering, he prayed that his uncle would wait until they got home to yell at him, or whatever he was going to do to the teen for being late. The older man merely finished reading through his message on his phone, his finger gliding down the smooth screen and tapping every so often. When he finished a few moments later, he clipped his phone back onto his belt and put his truck into drive. This was good, he still had time to mentally prepare himself for what was about to come.

“What happened?”

Stiles frowned to himself, unsure what the man was talking about until his eyes followed the other man’s gaze down to his jeans and hands. His jeans, the last good pair that he actually owned, had two large holes in the knees, smattered in grass and mud with an undertone of blood from the apparent cuts in his knees. His shirt was dirty, watery patches of mud clinging to the fabric of his second hand shirt, and the scrapes across his palms splitting his thin skin. He’d made a fool of himself is that happened, falling on his face in front of his friends and being laughed at by those who happened to see it. His side was flaring in pain; no doubt a forming bruise was rising to the surface of his skin under his shirt. “Nothing,” he lied.

John frowned and watched the teen curl around his book bag, hugging the bag close to his chest and securing his arms around it making a makeshift shield against something. His heart was racing, and the wolf knew something had happened at school. Looking back to the road, he hated to think it, but he hoped that he was wrong. He prayed that Stiles wasn’t getting beaten up at school too. Derek had assured him that his pack had taken the teen in rather well, absorbing him into the mix and including him in their group, and while his officers have never really had any trouble with the teens before, he wasn’t about to write off that they were the root cause for the teen’s school troubles. He didn’t want to think that, but what else could the man think?

Someone was hurting his nephew and it needed to stop.

He needed more evidence.

He also made a mental note to take his nephew clothes shopping this weekend.

They stopped at the store, picking up a few things for dinner that Stiles swore up and down that he would do all the while apologizing again and again. John tried shrugging it off, because really it was no big deal, but the teen had taken it to heart and decidedly felt bad for making the man wait unnecessarily in the parking lot. Walking around the grocery store, John could feel the lingering eyes of some of the shoppers settling accusingly on him, seemingly blaming him for Stiles ramrod straight posture, his jitteriness, and constant apologizing. He didn’t like the unwanted attention, and quickly picked up the last few things before moving to the checkout line.

While Stiles was busy loading up the register with their purchases, John noticed the teen eyeing a Snickers bar, lying on the candy rack overhead. Reaching forward, he dropped two into their pile and smiled at the boy’s stunned expression. “A little snack for later.”

The candy seemed to calm Stiles down considerably, the boy’s jumpy nature settling into a quiet stillness inside the cabin of the truck. When they got home, John busied himself with putting away the groceries while Stiles started on dinner, a simple dish involving sautéed mushrooms, a special sauce the kid created and three chicken breasts served over a bed of white rice and served up with some steamed veggies. It was weird for the kid to rush out into the living room once it was done to serve the wolf a plate full of the most amazing cooking the man has had since his wife was hospitalized. He took one bite and moaned slightly as his taste buds exploded, his lips holding the fork in his mouth, savoring the initial taste of the delicious meal before turning to nod his approval to the teen. It was a routine they had, John would start eating and nod towards Stiles, urging him to go and make himself a plate in the kitchen.

It was Derek who was the one who figured out the weird behavior first. When John got home Monday after work to find the two lounging in the living room, he couldn’t figure out the sudden change in Stiles’ behavior when the teen went from unperturbed state on the couch to skittish and bouncing around in the kitchen, calling over his shoulder that dinner would be done soon. John wasn’t sure what he was going to make considering he had brought some Chinese takeout home, remembering that they had absolutely nothing in stock, but the three sat quietly around the television in the living room eating while Stiles sat perfectly still, keeping his eyes down casted and refusing to acknowledge the audible grumble in his stomach.

“You have to eat something, Stiles.” Derek murmured as he leaned over to pluck an eggroll from one of the boxes. “It’s okay.” It was almost like Stiles needed a blessing from others to eat something. John figured the teen’s behavior was a residual effect of the drugs at the diner, the boy’s sluggish response to the meal placed in front of him, but it appears that this mannerism ran deeper than he thought.

Tuesday was much the same and it took John nearly the whole meal to realize that his nephew hadn’t even moved from his spot on the couch to go make his own plate after bringing one out to John. He told the teen to go eat and he did. Every other following day would be the same, John having to remind the teen to just eat on his own free will and to not wait for permission. Sometimes, while Stiles would excuse himself into the kitchen, John would find himself growling at what his brother did to that boy. He didn’t want to believe that his brother was the cause of the psychological trauma, his brother who loved everyone growing up, but there was too much evidence against him to believe otherwise.

Later that night, with their plates cleared away, and Stiles finishing up the dishes in the kitchen John’s phone rang out loudly. He groaned, rather liking the idea of going to bed more appealing, and ultimately answering with a low drawl of his voice. An officer named Greenberg was on the other line—Stiles briefly wondered if there was any relation to the student at his school—and judging by his uncles steadily souring look was asking a really dumb question or requesting the assistance of their chief out in the field for something of sorts. He hung up with a huff and turned to head towards the garage and his cruiser.

“I won’t be back until later,” he growled unhappily. “Don’t stay up, I’ll just see you tomorrow. Night buddy, and enjoy the Snickers.” Clapping Stiles on the shoulder, John slipped into his cruiser and pulled out of the garage grumbling to himself the whole way to the crime scene about his incompetent officers who needed someone to hold their hands on the simplest of cases. A wild animal had mauled one of the resident’s cats who lived close to the preserve. Derek was tied up on another call; otherwise John would have differed the situation to him and just gone to bed like his original plan was.

There were massive paw prints in the mud, leading away from the mess of the cat on the lady’s lawn into the thick woods. Judging by the myriad of prints scattered over his lawn, John guessed there were more than three wild animals responsible for this killing, and the size of it tipped him off to something more supernatural rather than animalistic. He couldn’t smell any of the usual wolves he knew around Beacon Hills. Having memorized their scents years ago, he couldn’t pick up any traces of either of the Hale packs in this mess but an undertone of something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He made a mental note to talk to the Hales about this later and finished at the scene earlier than he had originally thought possible. The way Greenberg was talking on the phone, it sounded like someone—a person—was mauled, but it was just a fucking cat and the most trying part was calming down the woman distraught over the death of her pet. _Maybe you should have kept it inside_ , he wanted to say to her but wisely kept his mouth shut.

When he got home, Stiles was sound asleep in his bed with his textbooks laying around him opened, and the light still on like he had fallen asleep studying. Carefully moving the books to the teens desk, John turned back and tucked the blankets around his nephew a little tighter. The boy had an unnatural chill settled on his skin. Turning the light off, he made his way downstairs to lock up and get a glass of water from the kitchen.

He noticed the Snickers were still untouched and in the same place he’d left them earlier.

They still had a long way to go.

~*~*~

“You should come to the game tonight!” Scott exclaimed happily as he and Isaac crowded around the teen at his locker after first block. Both were uncharacteristically touchy with him today, their hands seeking out his body any chance they got to offer an overly friendly touch. Not that his new friends weren’t _touchy-feely_ before, but today it seemed that any chance they got their hands were on him more so than each other. “And the after party at Jackson’s!”

Stiles had been at Beacon Hills long enough to know just how rowdy the parties Jackson threw happened to get. The last thing he wanted was to cause legal trouble for his uncle involving underage drinking, drug use, and underage sex. “I’d rather not—“

“Come on, Stiles, please?” Stiles refused to look at Isaac, the teen’s puppy dog face in full effect and working its magic perfectly on the brunette. “It’ll be fun and a good chance for you to unwind.”

Stiles saving grace was Lydia walking up behind Scott and Isaac, clearing her throat and watching the two jump around to Stiles’ other side so she could root around for her text book. Quickly exchanging his own materials, he walked off with Lydia at his side creating a buffer between himself and the wonder-duo who managed to set a Styrofoam plate on fire in one of their cooking classes. Her arm was curled protectively around his, dragging his arm into her side and walked briskly towards their next class with Scott and Isaac trailing behind prattling off reasons why the boy should go tonight. “Shut up boys, we’ll see you after school.” Ushering Stiles into their final class of the day, Lydia pushed him gently into his seat before plopping down gracefully next to him and pulling out her homework.

Not sure if he should be offended that Lydia was manhandling him and speaking in place of him, or thankful because people seemed to listen when she talked, he sat there for a long moment just blinking blankly at the front of the class. He noticed the strawberry blonde next to him rooting around in his folder, pulling free the homework packet he stayed up late completing, to hand it to their teacher as he walked around the class collecting the students work. She jabbed him in the side and turned to the correct page in their book, the force of the impact drawing Stiles from his daze. “You should at least go to the game,” she whispered once their teacher started the lecture.

Hamlet was boring anyways.

“I have a bunch of—“

“Don’t lie to me, Stiles. I’m in all your classes and we don’t have anything due until Wednesday.” She fixed him a heated look. “So what is the real reason you don’t want to go?” Lydia smiled sweetly at their teacher when he cleared his throat at their apparent disruption in the back of the class.

Stiles sunk lower in his seat, dreading the remainder of the day since Lydia already had her talons hooked into his skin. Making sure their teacher wasn’t paying attention, he leaned over slightly to whisper into her ear. “My uncle is picking me up and—“

“Chief Stilinski usually goes to the games,” she rolled her eyes. “He’s really close with the Hales and enjoys watching Isaac play and Cora cheer. He usually sits in the back with the adults, but he still attends all home games.”

Frowning to himself, the teen sunk further into his seat hating that the subject hadn’t been brought up earlier in the week. John had been kind of tired after his shifts all this week, and it wasn’t like they talked like they were old pals but he’d kind of hope that if his uncle wasn’t going to be home Friday night that he’d at least mention it to the teen. It just seemed like one of those _sharing_ things that people who lived together said to one another, even Mike had enough sense to tell Stiles that he would be away at work or out at the bar before bullying him into submission. That was the thing at scared Stiles the most about this whole situation, not that he wasn’t living with Mike anymore but living with a stranger whom he had absolutely no idea who to conduct himself around.

Walking out the student parking lot doors after school, Stiles eyes immediately zeroed in on the familiar Ford parked along a long line of parent’s vehicles waiting to pick up their kids. John was on his phone again, and even from the distance Stiles knew he was berating Officer Greenberg… yet again. He usually got this little tension line between his eyebrows that only reared its ugly head when John was incredibly annoyed with this particular officer. Lydia followed Stiles up to the truck, determined to ask on his behalf—since her friend refused to do so—if he could go to the game.

Opening the passenger side door, Stiles paused when John held his hand up. He appeared to be grinding his teeth, and had this constipated look that didn’t belong on his face. The two teens paused, starring curiously before Chief Stilinski hung up with a furious growl of annoyance. “Sorry buddy, I have to head back into the station. I can give you a—“

“No problem, Chief!” Lydia slammed his door shut. “Can Stiles come to the game tonight with us? I’ll take him and we’ll meet you there?”

Stiles eyes grew in size, amazed that Lydia had the gall to ask his uncle for permission for him to go. But the gentle smile the pulled over his face, replacing the annoyed work-related look, made him feel a little warm glow inside his chest. He nodded and started to dig around in his pockets. Pulling free his wallet, he pulled out a few bills and handed them over to his nephew, with instructions to make sure Stiles ate something before the game. “I’ll see you kids later.”

~*~*~

Dinner was delicious; a quick bite to eat at Chipotle was more than enough to satisfy his nonexistent hunger until the following week. A lot of the kids talked about this place at school, most of the jocks swearing by the 6-6-6 Challenge—six two-pound burritos, eaten in 66 minutes—where as everyone else just loved to eat here and Stiles suddenly understood why. Slouching back in his seat, his hand over his distended stomach rubbing slightly to soothe the stretched ache, he leaned his head back with a light groan to his lips. “Ugh, that was good.” He’d be digesting this epic food baby until Monday.

Lydia smiled around her straw, sipping on her Coke slowly to wash down the last of her burrito-bowl. Nodding, she set her cup down started to dig around in her purse for her cell phone. Pulling it out, Stiles watched in awe as she turned her camera on and flipped the lens so she could check her teeth and make sure nothing was stuck between her pearly whites. Running her tongue alone the smooth surface, she stored her phone and turned back to Stiles. “The boys love eating here, I’m surprised you haven’t been before.”

Conversing sounded like a lot of work. He wondered how much effort he’d have to put in to getting Lydia to just take him home instead of to the game so he could sleep this off. He ate way too much for his stomach to handle. “Wanna take me home?”

“Nonsense!” She stood and threw away their trash. Pulling Stiles to his feet they made their way out to her Mazda in the parking lot. “We’re headed to Jackson’s to pick out something for you to wear tonight.”

Stiles pretended not to notice the slight curl of the girls lip as her eyes tracked over his tattered clothes, or the too-large academy shirt the chief loaned him this morning. They chatted a bit on the way over, commenting on how Stiles was liking his new school, how much a bitch some teachers were, and Lydia subtly mentioning the party later that evening at Jacksons. Pulling up in the driveway, the girl got out with a natural grace and started making her way to the garage to open the garage door using the keypad on the side. “Jackson must really love you if you have the access codes.”

“I also have a key,” she said with a wink. “I’m pretty sure he did it so I can come over whenever I please. His parents are usually out, but it’s not uncommon for me to be here alone.” Grabbing his hand, she pulled him through the door and into the mudroom where he was instructed to take off his shoes.

Slipping out of his sneakers, he pulled his socks around on his feet to hide the hole from Lydia and followed her into the kitchen. Jackson had a really big house, maybe not as big as the Hale’s but still larger than anything he’d seen. It was easy to forget that a majority of the families living his Beacon Hills came from a wealthy background and that most houses were well over a million on the market. Lydia set her purse down on the kitchen island and moved around to pull a glass from the cupboard that Stiles would have bet money was real crystal. _Damn, Jackson’s parents were loaded!_

“Want something?” Shaking his head, he watched her pour herself some iced-tea and take a sip. Motioning for him to follow her, they made their way up to Jackson’s room and Lydia made a bee-line towards his large walk-in closet. “Come here,” he called.

Stiles stepped into the closet and instantly noticed a few of Lydia’s things hanging up on some of the racks. He doubted Jackson wore a pair of four-inch heels, skirts, or girly blouses. Lydia had a few of her boyfriends shirts in her hands, looking at them with a critical eye. Turning she held a few up to Stiles chest and frowned. “Something wrong?”

“You’re so small.” She threw two on the floor. Stiles waiting for a maid staff to come in and pick them up; no one thankfully came. “I don’t think any of his things will fit you.”

Stiles shrugged. “It’s okay, I said before I could just wear—“

“The point is you don’t have to. Plus, you have to show your school spirit and all.” Stiles sighed, wishing he could just lay down on Jackson’s oversized bed and sleep until Monday. But when Lydia pressed a few shirts into his hands with a remark to _try them on_ he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to sleep anytime soon.

_This is going to be a long day…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for all the reviews! You guys make me smile.


	7. Chapter 7

The game was a blow out, Beacon Hills crushing the opposing school in a devastating 14 – 0 game, with one of the other teams players walking away with a bruised pride and a twisted ankle after Jackson body checked him into submission for striking Danny in the goal with his Crosse for no reason other than he felt he could. Stiles flinched with the contact, knowing that the blow to Danny’s midsection would have had him down for the count, but the senior was pulled to his feet by Scott and Isaac and back to playing like nothing had happened. Danny didn’t really look it, but apparently he was a lot tougher than Stiles initially gave him credit for. The brunette almost felt bad for the other player as the crowd watched him limp off the field with the aid of his coach and the athletic trainer. 

 

Cora was a riot to watch, her natural grace and athleticism made her cheering all that much more alluring to watch compared to the other airheads on the cheering squad. While he found a chuckle or two bubbling out of him when a junior girl continually made a face plant on the track when trying to do a cartwheel, or the blonde girl on the end who didn’t seem to be able to take a step without tripping over her own feet, he continually found his gaze drawn back to Cora when he wasn’t actively watching the game.

 

“She’s great, isn’t she?” Startling, Stiles turned his head to stare blankly at Derek, his mind buzzing trying to figure out when the officer had sat down and how he hadn’t notice. Was he that focused on the game?

 

“Um… well,” he stammered. Heart racing, Stiles starred fearfully up at the older man, contemplating his answer carefully without trying to upset the officer. He didn’t want Derek thinking he was _checking out_ his sister and he also didn’t want Derek to take his lack of interest the wrong way either. Cora was a gorgeous girl, there was no doubt about it—Lydia and Alison were also exquisite in their own right—but he just didn’t find them appealing. He’d kept that secret close to the vest and he’d be damned if he’d allow someone he barely knows to find out a new way to torment him.

 

He wasn’t proud of it, being gay. His Uncle Mike would always rant and rave about some _freak_ that was wasting his time, calling 911 for helping after being beaten outside a gay bar, and then growl in annoyance, commenting that he was an insect that deserved to be squished; an ant and a boot situation. He’d kept his mouth shut, kept his eyes down and told himself over and over that there was something wrong with him for finding someone of the same sex appealing. Derek was a prime example, gorgeous in every way possible, and there was no way he’d ever tell the older man he found him attractive out of fear of the repercussions.

 

“Hey, it’s fine. She likes the attention,” his smile was infectious. “I think the whole purpose of those uniforms is go get everyone attention.” His warm hand came up to rub comfortingly at the back of Stiles neck, strong fingers scratching perfectly at his short hairs and massaging into his tense muscles.

 

Lydia turned from her animated conversation with Alison and flashed the officer a smile that made something deep inside Stiles’ stomach squirm. Even Alison regarded him in kind, nodding her head to him before turning to say something to her father who was asking questions about the game. “Will you be making an appearance tonight at Jackson’s tonight, Derek?”

 

Leaning forward, the officer narrowed his eyes at the seemingly unaffected girl, her posture remaining unfazed by his hard look and shrugging her should in an _so what_ attitude. “Do I need to be there?” It was a warning if Stiles had ever heard one, but it was weird hearing the officer try to intimidate Lydia who was normally an immovable force of nature.

 

Lydia merely flipped her long hair over her shoulder, and shrugged. Stiles felt awkward sitting between the two, eyes shifting from one to the other in an attempt to understand what was going on. Derek sat back after a long moment, his eyes calculating and returning to the field in time to see Jackson score. The timer ran down, they were out of time and Beacon Hills won.

 

Stiles didn’t even need to ask John if he could go to Jacksons party, the man already giving his blessing with a simple wave of his hand as he followed Alison’s parents out to the parking lot, discussing graduation plans the two had for their daughter. Derek gave his neck a gentle squeeze that settled down deep in his muscles, relaxing Stiles’ nerves and said he catch up with them later. Suddenly, Stiles found himself in the back seat of Lydia’s car with Alison tuning the radio to some song he’d never heard and crowing over their victory.

 

Apparently rival matches were a big thing in Beacon Hills.

 

They arrived at Jackson’s first and set about getting drinks ready and laying out the snacks Lydia had ordered earlier that afternoon. Still full from his dinner beforehand, the brunette wondered how Lydia was already munching on Doritos and little fried mac n’ cheese balls while setting everything out. Even Alison was taking hearty bites of a piece of pizza Lydia had given her, moaning appreciatively of the explosion of the sweet pineapple pieces topping it.

 

“People should be arriving any moment,” Lydia said in passing, her eyes tracking over everything they had set out, cataloging every detail in her head. Cups were set up by the refrigerator where they had stored a bunch of cans of pop inside to chill, plates were set out, and Alison was in the living room turning on the stereo, cranking up the volume slightly to the same station the two girls were listening to in the car.

 

“You going swimming, Alison?” Lydia called out while moving to slide open the French doors that led out to the large deck in the back yard.

 

Stretching to see outside from his perch at the breakfast bar, Stiles noted instantly the large in ground pool just off the deck and the large hot tub settled in the corner of the massive wooden deck. Not only was Jackson’s house huge, but the property it sat on was far superior that Stiles had initially gauged.

 

Startled out of his thoughts by the doorbell ringing, Stiles slide from the stool to his feet at Alison’s request for him to answer the door. He didn’t question why they both ran upstairs, giggling and pushing each other, but he was startled by the large mass of students from his school standing outside on the front porch.

 

“Party!” Someone whooped and held up a 12-pack. Pushing past Stiles they all filed into the foyer, making beelines towards the kitchen for snacks or the living room to turn up the stereo. Some dropped jackets or purses into his arms while he stood there dumbfounded, unsure if he was supposed to ask them to remove their shoes too like they had once stepping inside the house. 

 

A trail of a few more of his classmates filed in, following suit of the others and piling more jackets into Stiles’ already full arms. He grunts under the pressure, suddenly unsure where to put them when a gentle hand comes down on his shoulder, dragging his attention from a girl adding her purse to the pile back towards Alison in a tasteful bikini top and a pair of cutoff shorts that matched. She grabbed an armful of the pile from Stiles and motioned for him to follow her upstairs to a spare bedroom. They laid out everyone’s things on the large bed and made their way back downstairs to find that more students had piled in and that the driveway and street were littered with cars.

 

The lacrosse team hadn’t arrived yet, but Stiles could easily bet that there were over fifty kids from their school milling about the house and splashing in the pool. It made him wonder if Lydia had bought enough snacks to feed everyone.

 

“Stiles!” An arm snaked around his shoulders, pulling him against Cora in a tight sideways hug as she led them upstairs.

 

“Some party,” he smiled shyly. Stiles eyed the Victoria Secrets bag the younger Hale had slung over her opposite shoulder but continued to follow her.

 

Cora’s responding smile was infectious. “Usually is, Jackson and Lydia throw amazing parties. Come on,” she whispered while pulling Stiles into the upstairs bathroom.

 

He tripped over his own two feet, toppling into the counter and catching himself before his face met he floor. Cora giggled to herself and set her bag on the counter, digging around in its contents before pulling out a two-piece swimsuit and a pair of athletic shorts with the Beacon Hills mascot embossed on the left leg. She continued to root around until a pair of navy blue swim trunks came out.

 

“Here,” she pushed the material into his chest. “These are my little cousin’s old ones from way back when, mom thought they’d fit you. They should fit you better than Jackson’s stuff.” Blushing, Stiles glanced down to stare at the large fitting shirt hanging off his body and the too-big jeans Lydia had found from Jackson’s sophomore year in the back of his closet.

 

“Thank—Cora!” Hiding his face in the material of the swim trunks, his face heating up and probably beat red, he turned and made a bolt for the door. Stopping short when Cora’s hand shot out to snag the back of Jackson’s shirt, he stood perfectly still and didn’t dare glance in the mirror in fear of seeing Cora who had already slipped out of her cheer top, long dark hard spilling over her shoulder and barely covering her sports bra. “I’ll wait outside.”

 

“It’s fine, Stiles, just get changed.” Her fingers flexed in the shirt before withdrawing and leaving Stiles standing awkwardly there with the shorts clutched to his chest. Behind him he could hear the rustle of her cheer fabric over the thrum of the stereo in the living room, the fabric sounding louder in his ears when it hit the floor. “You going to get changed?”

 

As long as he kept his eyes down he could survive this, so long as no one else found out. Heart thundering in his chest he slowly started to peel his socks off, wondering if Cora could actually hear his heart beating. Tentatively grasping the hem of his borrowed shirt, Stiles bit his lip and chanced a glance up to see Cora curiously watching him in nothing but her underwear and sports bra. She could clearly see him looking at her in the mirror and didn’t seem to mind, only stepping out of her skirt and slipping her fingers in the waistband of her boy shorts.

 

“Cora,” his voice sounded weird in his own ears. Why he couldn’t just go change in Jackson’s room was beyond him. He couldn’t even bring himself to ask if he could, he could only stare blankly at his friend standing behind him with a slight frown to her face.

 

“Yes, Stiles?”

 

“Okay, just… don’t look.” A pained look crossed Cora’s face before she nodded and continued to get dressed, minding her own business and not once glancing towards Stiles. Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his fingers carefully slipped the baggy jeans off his narrow hips.

 

He folded Jackson’s jeans neatly and set them on the counter and tucked his ratty boxers underneath, hiding them from Cora’s straying eyes after he’d slipped into the fitted trunks. It felt good to be in something that actually fit, to have the fabric not just hang off his body but to lay perfectly against his skinny frame. He kept Jackson’s shirt on, not daring to remove it and have everyone see all his scars, it was bad enough they could see the tail end of a scar on the back of his right thigh that never healed quite right, but he didn’t have to subject everyone to the mess that was the rest of his body.

 

“Can you help me?” Turning to look at Cora, he blanched at the bikini top Cora was going to wear. “If you could knot them that would be fantastic.”

 

Once satisfied that his two ties wouldn’t come undone a knock on the bathroom door, startling the two occupants inside. “Hey, some of us have to pee!” Gathering their things, Stiles followed Cora out and passed an annoyed looking girl who just seemed to glare at them before she darted in and closed the door with a slam.

 

“I think she had to pee,” Cora laughed. Stiles even felt a small chuckle bubble up from his chest at the girls’ antics. They stored their stuff in Jackson’s closet before making their way down the stairs to see that the lacrosse team had finally made its arrival, Jackson and Scott being carried on the teams shoulders while parading around the house.

 

Cora rolled her eyes. Grabbing his hand, she led Stiles through the house until the two of them found Allison and Lydia in the kitchen, sipping on something red from the large punch bowl by the refrigerator. Sparing a second glance at the bowl Stiles noted how there appeared to be large clumps of orange, pink and green sherbet from the container he’d seen in the freezer and there was two empty bottles of vodka pushed to the back of the counter, hidden in the dark corner between the backsplash tile and the stainless steel refrigerator. If the dilated pupils in both Lydia’s and Allison’s eyes and the faint blush to their cheeks was anything to go by, he was betting that the missing alcohol made its way into the bowl.

 

Cora accepted a solo cup from Lydia and swallowed back at least half before choking. She laughed, a little bit of the punch dribbling from the corner of her mouth, making a wet trail down her jaw, sloping down her neck to finally be absorbed into the material of her bikini top. Using her finger to wipe away the remaining punch from her skin, she reached for the other offered cup from Lydia and handed it to Stiles.

 

“Drink up, Stiles,” Allison crowd. She pumped her hand with her cup in it into the air. “We won!”

 

“Hell yeah!” Lydia mimicked her actions, thrusting her cup hand in the air clinking their two plastic cups together.

 

“Come on, Stiles.” Cora smiled, her own cup joining in the cluster.

 

Biting his lower lip, he peered down into the cup, eyeing the unassuming clump of green sherbet floating at the top. He swirled the liquid inside, the green clump moving in a circle with the motion of his hand, still inconspicuous and frankly tasty looking. It was so unassuming, so innocent looking, that if he hadn’t noticed the signs he probably would have knocked back half the drink like Cora had.

 

The thought of drinking it made his stomach harden and the sickly sweet smell of the punch made him nauseous. The tell tale tickle burning in the back of his throat put a bad taste in his mouth, making it a very real chance that he may vomit the moment he brings the lip of the cup to his mouth. _I can’t drink this._ “Yeah,” he smiled carefully.

 

Raising his glass with a little more enthusiasm in his thrust than he actually had, their four cups made a hallow sound before they each swallowed down a large gulp. The moment the cup came up to his face the pungent stench of the Vodka made his head swim. He knew this smell, had smelled it for as long as he could remember as his Uncle Mike preferred to drink straight from the bottle, and the combination of the Vodka with the fruity smell of the punch and sherbet made him want to vomit all that much more. Glancing around his cup, he took fast notice how the three girls were already laughing, Allison handing off of Cora’s shoulder and Lydia’s face getting redder by the drink. Tucking his cup in the hiding space next to the two empty bottles on the counter, he smiled and followed the three out onto the deck.

 

~*~*~

 

Stiles had been sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet dangling over the deep end watching his friends play a hearty game of chicken while nursing a bottle of water between his fingers. It was nearing two in the morning and a good majority of the students had already left for home, or better things at another party once the alcohol had been consumed. Two black trash bags were the remnants of the cans and glass bottles lay tucked behind the trash bins in the garage, the evidence of the underage drinking that the students participated in.

 

A splash to the edge of the pool drew his attention from the rippling pool water back up to the game. A majority of the players had already been knocked out, the only two teams remaining were Jackson and Lydia—there was no doubt in his mind that when the game started those two would be one of the two remaining teams—and Scott and Allison. It was surprising that Allison was able to stay on Scott’s shoulders; her movements had become less coordinated with every drink she knocked back. Lydia seemed to be holding her liquor well, although she switched to water around eleven o’clock.

 

Scott and Jackson were growling at each other. There really wasn’t any other word for it. His old neighbor had a Rottweiler that growled they are any time someone so much as looked at his yard. There were even a few instances when a stray cat would venture close enough to the fence to cause the growling to morph into snarling, matching the tones Scott and Jackson were making. Lydia and Allison were too busy laughing and grunting to notice the growl fest happening below them, hands dueling in the air in a desperate attempt to finally end the game, knocking the other team over and into the water.

 

“So, who is winning?” Startling violently, Stiles jumped when Derek sat down next to him on the side of the pool. The water bottle previously held in his hands now lay at the bottom of he pool. What was even more startling was the warm fleece the officer had loaned him a few weeks ago was now wrapped around his shoulders, warming the teen’s body. “My money is on Jackson and Lydia again.”

 

“Again?” Stiles asked once he found his voice again. His hands fisted themselves in the warm fabric, warming his chilled fingers with the simple caress of the fabric against his skin. God, he loved this jacket.

 

Derek hummed in acknowledgement; his eyes alight with laughter as he watched the game. “Last time Scott broke his nose on the edge of the pool. Lydia and Jackson won by default.”

 

Stiles winced and looked back out to the match. Lydia was clearly waning in strength, her shoves had less power behind them and the way Jackson’s muscles were bulging to just keep his girlfriend up on his shoulders were another clear indicator she was tiring while Allison just looked slightly out of breath. “Who do you think is going to win?” Looking back to Derek, the teen was startled to see the older man looking at him with a certain look in his eyes.

 

He took a moment to answer, Stiles question rattling around in his head before he opened his mouth and a deadly smile playing on his lips. “Jackson and Lydia, of course.” Derek didn’t look away from Stiles’ face to know that the pair was going to win.

 

“How do you—“

 

“Damn it!” Allison screeched loudly as she and Scott fell back in the water. The splash drowned out the rest of her scream, swallowing it whole as the two sputtered to the surface in a flurry. “Scott, we nearly had them this time!” She smacked his shoulder and started swimming towards the ladder.

 

Scott shook his sopping wet hair back and out of his face. Glaring at Jackson and Lydia who were too busy taking a victory lap around the shallow end of the pool, his hands appeared to be busy under the water, rubbing between his legs. “How did you know?”

 

“Game before last, Jackson kneed Scott in the groin.” Stiles winced; having no doubt in his mind that Jackson’s dirty trick would leave the teen with a seriously bruised pride and genitalia. Jackson didn’t appear to be someone who would hold back even for a cheap shot such as that. “He’ll be fine, Allison will see to it.”

 

Stiles wasn’t sure how Allison was going to help Scott with a bruise. Maybe some ice and some anti-inflammatory agents, but other than that Stiles was clueless as to how she was supposed to help. Maybe it was a sex joke? Stiles didn’t understand those any better.

 

The party died down once everyone climbed out of the pool and realized that all the snacks Lydia had prepared were gone. Stiles retreated to Jackson’s room to change into his own ratty clothes from school the previous day while Cora and Isaac snacked on the last two pieces of pizza. Thanking Jackson for the clothes and Lydia for everything else, he followed the three Hales out to Derek’s sleek black Camaro. Cora and Isaac clambered into the back, yawning and curling into the side of the car to rest their heads.

 

Stiles sat in the front, hugging his school bag to his chest and feeling wide-awake. Derek smiled and patted his knee. “Enjoy yourself?”

 

Nodding, Stiles bit his bottom lip suddenly conscious that Derek sole attention was on him rather than pestering his siblings on the events of the party. “It was okay.”

 

“Just okay?”

 

“I’m not good with large parties.” He wanted to say any kind of human interaction, but Beacon Hills seemed to be different. The students were nicer, save for a few bad eggs, he actually managed to make a few friends, and even met some really nice adults who took a notice in him, caring enough to do more than a simple phone call to children’s services. Stiles watched Derek nod out of the corner of his eye.

 

“It’s good you went though,” Derek rolled to a stop outside his uncle’s house. “We like seeing you smile. John’s asleep already, but he said to tell you that the back door is unlocked. Good night, Stiles.”

 

“Good night, Derek, and thank you for the ride.” Moving to take off the incredibly warm fleece, he paused when Derek’s large hand covered his own, halting all efforts of removing the jacket. “Der—“

 

“Just hang onto it for me for a while, okay?” They starred at each other for a long moment, neither moving away nor drawing closer. “It looks good on you.”

 

Nodding jerkily, Stiles pulled away and smiled at the officer. “Thanks again Derek.” Walking briskly up the driveway, Stiles paused and smiled over his shoulder to see Derek wave at him for a moment before pulling out and driving down the street. He timidly returned the gesture.

 

Rounding the back of the house, a sudden chill ran down the teen spine when a growl lifted to his ears from the dark depths of the backyard. Swallowing down the thick lump in his throat, he bolted for the back door and pulled with more force than necessary. The back door flew open, banging loudly against the mudroom wall, and closed with just as much force from the hearty slam Stiles bestowed upon it. Locking the lock and the deadbolt, Stiles slid to the floor and tucked his knees to his chest. Outside he could hear the familiar scrape of large paws against the wood grain of his Uncle John’s hardwood deck and the same growl.

 

“It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real,” he repeated quietly. Hands up covering his ears and his eyes screwed shut; Stiles braced himself for the animal to rattle the door in an attempt to get in.

 

“Stiles?” Startling, jerking back and hitting his head against the door, Stiles starred fearfully up at John. There was no doubt the man and been awakened by the slam of the door against the mudroom wall, his sleep pants and white tee shirt were still sleep creased, hair fluffed up in a cowlick on the side of his head where he rested against the pillow, and his eyes were still a little red. “Hey, kiddo, you okay?”

 

Tensing, pressing himself into the door and curling away from John as he crouched down next to Stiles, he couldn’t help but allow a small whimper escape from his lips. “I’m sorry!”

 

“No, hey, it’s okay. Just tell me what’s wrong.” Pulling the distressed teen so he was cradled against his chest, John wrapped his arms around the boy and just held him against the tremors that wrecked his body. “Shh, buddy, it’s okay.”

 

Outside the door, the scraping continued and a soft growl could be heard over Stiles’ little broken sobs, drawing Chief Stilinski’s attention from his nephew to what was going on outside his back door. A responding growl rumbled in deep in his chest, warning off the intruder that dared to step to his den. Once he was sure the creature on the other side of the door was gone, John loosened his hold around Stiles shaking form.

 

“I’m sorry,” he rasped against the grain in his throat.

 

“It’s okay, you’re safe now, Stiles.”

 

It took a while to coax Stiles up to his room, and it took even more time to convince the teen that the pinched look on John’s face wasn’t due to being woken up at four in the morning. Torn between wanting to settle his distressed nephew and tear out the backdoor, searching for the creature that dared step to his house, John settled on staying to make sure Stiles didn’t have another panic attack. He was already sucking down large gulps of air, his chest heaving with the effort to supply oxygen to his body. Stiles would wear himself out doing that, he did before last time he had a panic attack in front of his uncle. Then, John wasn’t really sure what to do and even now he still wasn’t sure.

 

Derek knew how to handle this. Knew how to get Stiles to focus on him rather than the crippling fear that seemed to take hold of his mind. No matter what John did, he knew he wasn’t helping. The gentle pats to the kids back didn’t even gain a reaction and pulling him closer to his body only seemed to make this worse. Running a tired hand through his hair, John settled his other on the back of his nephews neck and tried to focus. They could siphon pain, maybe he could take away some of Stiles fear.

 

“It’s okay buddy, it’ll be okay.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm not dead! That's a bonus. Sorry it took me forever to get this chapter out. My computer died a while ago and life has just been crazy. Between school and my broken wrist I've just about had it. But yay new computer! Anyways, found a burst of inspiration this week when I was supposed to be writing a paper for school. Somehow this seemed a little more entertaining than writing this paper on Flood Mitigation. Lemme know what you guys think! And thanks to everyone who was so kind as to leave a wonderful review. They make me smile.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever attempt at a Teen Wolf fic and I'm sure everyone can tell, but I have no beta. I'll try to catch my spelling and grammatical errors as I go, but no promises guys.


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